


Changes Come

by enigmaticblue



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 11:47:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1687166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starts in S4, at the beginning of The I in Team, and then goes from there. Spike and Buffy race to beat the Council to get information on true meaning of the Slayer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sunnydale, California

“Has it occurred to you that there might be a higher purpose?”

 

Spike glanced up from counting the bills suspiciously. “A higher purpose to what?”

 

“You having this chip, being unable to harm humans,” Giles said. “Your ability to fight demons would allow you to fight on the side of good.”

 

Spike snorted, went back to his money, then paused. “Does fighting the good fight pay anything?”

 

Giles frowned. “Not usually, no.”

 

Spike decided to save the counting until later, realizing that he had an opportunity to make a deal. It wasn’t that he had any desire to help the Watcher or any of his little Scoobies battle demons and make the world a better place. Hardly. But Spike had already figured out how hard it was going to be to come by blood and smokes.

 

He couldn’t just take what he wanted, whenever he wanted these days, and if he was going to get his spot of violence in, Spike knew he’d need protection. He couldn’t go about killing his own kind and not have someone looking out for his best interests, particularly since he needed to be on the lookout for the soldiers as well.

 

In truth, Spike had enemies on all sides, and he knew it; he’d gone to the Slayer for shelter before, and it wouldn’t make much difference to have to go to her again.

 

Or, to her Watcher, which was just as bad.

 

Still, in for a penny, in for a pound, and this could get interesting. “I’m going to need blood, smokes, and a guarantee of my safety,” Spike said bluntly. “You talk about fighting the bad guys like there’s nothing wrong with it.”

 

“There’s not!” Giles protested. “It’s a noble pursuit.”

 

“It’s a death-wish if you’re me,” Spike snapped. “And I’m not ‘noble.’ I’m a bloody vampire, and don’t you forget it. This chip comes out, and—”

 

“And you’ll do nothing,” Giles said, his own tone growing dangerous. “If it comes to that, you’ll get a free pass to leave Sunnydale, presuming that you promise not to return.” At Spike’s sardonic expression, Giles sighed. “Although I know that your word means little.”

 

“Hey!” Spike protested, stung. “I’ll have you know that I had very good reasons to come back to Sunnydale, and I never broke my promise. Told Buffy I’d take Dru and get out of town, and that’s exactly what I did.”

 

“And then you came back,” Giles pointed out. “I’m not sure that makes me feel any better.”

 

“Didn’t tell you to make you feel better,” Spike replied. “I’m not doing this for free.”

 

Giles considered that for a moment. “If you help us, I can guarantee that we’ll do what we can to protect you,” he finally said. “That’s only fair. Blood I think I can arrange as well, but I’m not buying your cigarettes.”

 

“And how do you think I’m going to get money to buy them?” Spike asked, his eyebrow going up. “Think I could get a 9 to 5?” He didn’t tell the Watcher that he had every intention of finding ways to get money; perhaps it would be a little harder to steal now, but that didn’t mean it was going to be impossible.

 

Giles considered that for a moment. “Very well. How much do you typically smoke?”

 

“Carton every couple of weeks will do,” Spike replied, not wanting to push his luck. He knew a concession when he heard one, and the fact that he’d gotten pretty much everything he’d asked for, including the money from the night before, put him in a good mood.

 

With any luck, Spike would be able to work this to his advantage; at the very least, he’d be spending time around the Slayer, and he’d have plenty of opportunities to needle her.

 

And if he was supposed to be helping her, chances were she wouldn’t be able to ride him quite as hard.

 

Spike’s eyes began to glow as he considered all the possibilities. He could still be a thorn in her side even if he wasn’t trying to kill her; this could be a lot of fun.

 

~~~~~

 

“No, no, and a world of no,” Buffy said, staring at Giles in utter shock. “What were you thinking? Spike’s not going to help us! He’s just trying to find a way to get under my skin. And it’s working.”

 

Giles pinched the bridge of his nose, a sure sign of trouble to come. “I think you might be overreacting, Buffy, and Spike could be an asset. I think we should at least give him a chance to change.”

 

“He’s not going to change,” Buffy said, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “Come on, Giles. Spike is a vampire, he’s evil, and he likes it that way. A zebra can’t change its spots.” She frowned. “Okay, that’s not right.”

 

“A leopard has spots,” Giles corrected. “People have been known to change.”

 

“People, not demons,” Buffy said stubbornly.

 

She had forgotten that Giles could be just as stubborn, however, because he merely raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t make the deal; I did. You can at least try to not kill Spike when he’s around. I’m sure he’ll be coming to the occasional meeting.”

 

Buffy groaned. Just what she needed—seeing Spike on a regular basis. Ever since that stupid spell, being around the vampire had been uncomfortable at best. She still remembered what it had felt like to be in love with Spike, and while they had fought constantly, it had still been…nice.

 

Really, it had been nice to have someone so devoted to her that he was willing to marry her, even though Buffy knew it had been spell-induced. No matter how many times she told herself that it had been stupid, that it hadn’t been real, that much remained behind.

 

Well, that and the memory of how good a kisser Spike was.

 

“Fine,” Buffy ground out. “But if he puts one toe over the line, I’m going to stake him, Giles.”

 

Giles shrugged. “As I already told him that much, I have no problem with that.”

 

Buffy scowled, not happy with the situation. “I should get going. I’m meeting Riley soon.”

 

“Be careful, Buffy,” Giles called after her.

 

She waved, used to his admonitions by now. He always told her to be careful, and she always was. Mostly always. The idea of Spike being constantly underfoot irritated her to no end, and she was short with Riley.

 

“Something up, Buffy?” he asked.

 

She shook her head, having no way of explaining Spike without—explaining Spike. As much as she didn’t like the vampire, there was no way she was going to give him back to the Initiative. That just seemed beyond wrong.

 

“No, just in a bad mood,” Buffy replied. “I’m sorry.”

 

He shrugged, grinning good-naturedly. “It’s okay. You’re allowed.”

 

Buffy summoned up a smile, forcing all thoughts of Spike to the back of her mind. “Are you hungry?”

 

“I could eat.” Riley slung an arm over her shoulders, and Buffy snuggled into her boyfriend. Really, it should be easy to forget about Spike when she had everything she needed right here.

 

~~~~~

 

For the most part, Spike thought he’d probably gotten the better end of the deal. After all, there wasn’t much Buffy could actually do to him, particularly in front of her Watcher, and while he’d been popped in the nose a few times while out searching for nasties with her, he didn’t mind. Not when she got all annoyed, with her face flushed, and her blonde hair swinging with each irritated toss of her head.

 

Besides, he got his blood and smokes, and a helping hand whenever he got himself into a spot of trouble. Giles had been as good as his word; when Spike had shown up with an Initiative tracer buried in his back, the Watcher had dug it out, and then later told Riley that he wasn’t going to allow the soldier to take him.

 

Knowing that Giles, at least, was going to keep his end of the deal, allowed Spike to give his help a little more willingly after that—including helping the Scoobies find their rogue Slayer. Not that he was much help, but he looked for the girl.

 

Adam’s offer, however, caused Spike to question his promise to the Watcher. Mr. Bits ‘n Pieces said that he could take the chip out, free him—and Spike wanted it. He really did want to believe the demon.

 

Spike also believed that Adam would use him for his own ends and then discard him when it was all over. After all, the devil you knew was better than the one you didn’t.

 

“Spike,” Giles said, answering the door with an expression that could almost be called welcoming. “I didn’t think you were coming by until tomorrow.”

 

Spike shook his head. “’s not about that. I ran into your demon friend.”

 

Giles frowned. “Which demon? We’re overrun at the moment.”

 

“Adam.”

 

Giles’ steady gaze was a bit intimidating, but Spike held his eyes until the other man turned to the liquor cabinet. “Would you like something to drink?”

 

“That would be good.” He took the proffered glass with a nod, then tossed back the Scotch. Spike was a little surprised when Giles poured him another without being asked, but he understood the unspoken message; he and the Watcher had come to an understanding the last few months. “He wanted my help.”

 

“In exchange for what?” Giles asked.

 

“Taking the chip out,” Spike replied.

 

Leaning back in his chair, and taking a slow sip, the other man seemed to consider that for a moment. “I see. You told him no?”

 

“Told him I’d think about it, that I wasn’t going to be anybody’s lapdog,” Spike replied. “He’ll be back.”

 

“Why did you come to me about this?” Giles asked. “You could have done as he asked.”

 

Spike shrugged. He wasn’t all that sure that he could have; although the Slayer didn’t like him much, he and the rest of her little friends had come to a wary truce. He had a feeling that the witch might even trust him a bit now.

 

Not that Spike liked to think about that too hard.

 

“I could have,” he acknowledged. “Chances are he wouldn’t have kept up his end of the bargain, though. Don’t trust him, not when I know who was behind his making.”

 

Giles nodded. “I see.” He sounded as though he did. “Would you be willing to work with him, find out what he wants?”

 

Spike grimaced. What Giles was asking him to do was dangerous, no question about it; if Adam found out what he was about, the demon cyborg wouldn’t hesitate to kill him. “Throwin’ me to the wolves, Watcher?”

 

“If you don’t want to do it, no one is going to force you,” Giles replied. “Of course, I never took you for a coward, Spike.”

 

It was a well-placed shot, and Spike winced, even though he knew that’s exactly what the Watcher was aiming for. “You know I’m no coward,” Spike snapped. “You try goin’ one-on-one with that wanker, and we’ll see how willing you are to betray him.”

 

Giles nodded, appreciating his point. “Very well. We’ll get the information by some other means.”

 

“Didn’t say I _wouldn’t_ do it,” Spike said quickly. He scowled. “Fine. I’ll let you know what that wanker wants—if I come back in one piece.”

 

Spike stood, ready to stomp out of Giles’ flat, angry that the other man didn’t seem to recognize or appreciate the risks he was taking.

 

“Spike,” Giles called. “I do appreciate this. I don’t know that there’s any other way to get what information we need regarding Adam and his plans.”

 

Spike shrugged, uncomfortable with his gratitude. “Yeah, sure. I’ll see you.”

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy sighed, twirling her stake and waiting for Spike’s arrival. The last few months had been interesting, to say the least. While she’d been against Giles enlisting his help at first, Buffy had gradually come around. Spike could be useful—on occasion. Most of the time, he was just downright annoying, but she’d grown used to the verbal sparring, and she even enjoyed it.

 

Not that she would ever, ever admit to that.

 

She sighed. Spike was late, and almost in spite of herself, she was beginning to get a little worried. Giles had impressed upon her the chance that Spike was taking, and had strongly suggested that she show a little appreciation.

 

Spike came sauntering up out of the darkness; Buffy hadn’t even heard him coming. “What are you doing here, Slayer?”

 

“I—” At the quick jerk of his head, Buffy changed her tune. “Let’s go, Spike,” she ordered.

 

“Bugger off, Summers. I’m tired.”

 

Buffy narrowed her eyes. “You don’t have a choice, Spike. Giles pays you for a reason.” She grabbed his arm firmly and started dragging him off.

 

Spike tried to shake her off, and although to an observer his attempt would have appeared genuine, Buffy could tell that he wasn’t trying very hard. “Bloody hell!” he exclaimed. “Ease off. Fine, I’m coming.”

 

Buffy retained her grip on his arm, although she loosened up a bit, not wanting to hurt him. “Anything?” she asked, keeping her voice low.

 

“Later,” he hissed.

 

They walked, continuing the bickering easily, even though most of the heat had gone out of it. “I don’t see why you always have to be such a bitch,” Spike griped.

 

“Maybe because you’re always such a pig,” Buffy suggested sweetly.

 

Spike leered at her. “Oink, oink. You know you get off on it, Slayer.”

 

“Ew!” Buffy said, although her hand was still on his arm. After all, they were just playing to the possible audience; it wasn’t anything serious. “You know what I get off on?” she asked.

 

Spike’s raised eyebrow caused Buffy to realize exactly how that was going to sound; no matter how she finished that sentence, it was going to come off wrong. Her silence didn’t help, however. “What do you get off on?” he asked, his tone dropping seductively.

 

Knowing that she was in a no-win situation, Buffy allowed her lips to curve up into a smile. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” she teased.

 

His eyes darkened. “You know I would,” Spike purred.

 

Buffy jerked back, recognizing that the sexual tension had just ratcheted up several notches. And why was it that the sexual tension between her and Riley had never been this thick? Out of reflex, she popped him in the nose, although Buffy didn’t hit him nearly as hard as she could have.

 

For some odd reason, hurting Spike hadn’t been nearly as satisfying recently.

 

Spike seemed to notice the lack of power behind her blow, because even though his hand flew to his nose, his eyes were sparkling—and not in rage, either. He put on a good show, though. “Knew I should have killed you when I had the chance,” he muttered.

 

Buffy sneered at him, now back on solid ground. “You never had the chance, Spike. My _mother_ beat you up the one time you got close.”

 

She marched off, confident that Spike would be close behind her. They arrived at Giles’ apartment, and Buffy waved Spike inside first, glancing out into the darkness, wondering if they’d been followed. “Well?” she asked, as soon as the door was closed.

 

“Did you have to hit me?” he asked, not responding to her question.

 

“I really think that I did,” Buffy shot back. “Besides, you’re supposed to have information for us.”

 

“Did you see Adam again?” Giles asked mildly.

 

Buffy glanced at her Watcher a little guiltily. “Hey, Giles.”

 

He smiled indulgently in lieu of a greeting. “Spike?”

 

“I saw him.” Spike eyed Giles’ drink. “You think I could get one of those?” As soon as Giles had poured a drink and handed it to him, Spike continued. “I saw him. He wanted me to tell him how to beat the Slayer. For some reason, he thought I had the inside track.”

 

“What did you tell him?” Buffy asked suspiciously.

 

Spike shrugged. “Told him the truth. Your strength is in your family and friends, but the big lug doesn’t understand that. So, I told him I could sow dissension in the ranks, make you guys fight, and make you weaker.” He looked smug. “Now that you know, of course I won’t be able to do it, but it was a good plan.”

 

Buffy still wasn’t satisfied. “So why didn’t you do it? I mean, you said Adam promised to take your chip out.”

 

Spike sniffed. “Yeah, right. He wants to use me to get to you, Slayer. He doesn’t have any use for me other than that, and it was the Initiative that created the walking pile of junk anyway. No way am I going to trust him knowing that.” He looked a little sheepish. “Besides, I made a promise, an’ I keep my word.”

 

Buffy nodded thoughtfully. “I guess we’ll have to pretend to fight.”

 

“What else did he want?” Giles asked. “Did he have any other tasks for you?”

 

Spike shrugged. “Said he’d be in touch to find out how I’d done.”

 

“Until then, it would be best if it appeared as though you were spending time with the others, to sabotage their relationships,” Giles said.

 

Spike nodded, finishing the rest of his drink, and rising. “Guess I’ll get to it, then.”

 

Buffy watched as he made his way to the door. “Spike!” she called.

 

He half-turned. “Yeah?”

 

“If you need any help, let me know.”

 

Spike’s lips twitched up to form a real smile—not a smirk, or a grimace, or a leer. “Yeah.”

 

That was the expression that haunted Buffy’s dreams, where he would smile at her just like that again, and then—

 

Well, Buffy was just grateful that she didn’t talk in her sleep, at least as long as she shared a bed with Riley.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike checked the laceration on his leg carefully. While he didn’t need to worry about infection as a vampire, debris in the wound hurt like the dickens and slowed down the healing.

 

When the door flew open, he started, reaching for the nearest weapon out of reflex. Spike immediately relaxed into his ratty green chair when he saw who it was; he should have known, just by the sound of the door hitting the wall. “It’s you.”

 

“How’s the leg?” Buffy asked, stepping into the crypt and closing the door behind her.

 

Spike shrugged. “It’ll mend. What about you?”

 

“Nothing worth writing home about,” she replied. “A couple of bruises, but that’s about it. I was just wondering if you wanted to join us for movies tonight.”

 

Spike blinked in surprise. “Huh?”

 

“We’re doing the traditional post-apocalyptic movie night,” Buffy replied. “You helped stop the apocalypse, so it’s only fair that you get to join us.”

 

Spike shook his head. “That’s okay. I got a bottle of Jack, an’ the telly. Don’t really think I’ll be goin’ anywhere tonight.”

 

“Yeah, okay,” Buffy said.

 

She turned to leave, but Spike didn’t want to let her go just yet. “How’s the soldier-boy?” It wasn’t that he cared, but he knew that Buffy did, and talking about Riley with her there was better than allowing Buffy to leave.

 

Buffy appeared a little surprised, but she answered his question readily enough. “He’s fine.” She paused. “I don’t think he’s going to stay in Sunnydale.”

 

“That right?” Spike asked, hoping that his expression didn’t give away his glee. “That’s too bad.”

 

Buffy gave him a sour look. “I’m sure you’re very disappointed.”

 

“You’re not happy about it,” Spike replied.

 

She sighed. “I probably should be more upset.”

 

“Not feelin’ the love?”

 

“It hasn’t been the same since…” Buffy trailed off, but Spike knew what she was talking about. He’d overheard Buffy talking to the witch about it. Things hadn’t been the same since the other Slayer did the body-switch and slept with the boy.

 

“Yeah,” Spike said, remembering when he’d caught Drusilla with the chaos demon.

 

Their eyes met for a moment, and Spike could sense her warming to him a bit. “I should get going,” Buffy said.

 

“Right, then. Off with you.” Spike let her go this time and settled back into his seat.

 

And when he dreamed that night, he didn’t dream of his dark princess.


	2. London, England

Buffy couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “What?”

 

Giles sighed. “I need you to go to London and meet with a representative from the Council. It’s someone I trust, so you needn’t fear for your safety.”

 

“I can take care of myself,” Buffy replied. “It’s just that I don’t see why I have to go, if it’s your friend. I mean, not that I mind, it’s just—it’s the Council.”

 

Giles gave her a sympathetic look. “I understand your reluctance, Buffy, and I would be happy to go myself, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to get back into the country.”

 

Buffy frowned. “What are you talking about?”

 

“The INS can’t give me any guarantees that my visa will be approved next time, and if I leave the country, I might be denied entrance again until the paperwork goes through.” Giles took off his glasses and began to clean them vigorously. “Without the Council pulling strings, who knows how long that will take.”

 

As much as she didn’t like the thought of traveling to England to meet a member of the Council without her Watcher, she liked the thought of Giles not being in Sunnydale even less. “Okay. I guess I’ll just have to find my way.”

 

Giles shook his head. “You didn’t seriously think that I’d let you go by yourself, did you? I’ve already asked Spike to accompany you.”

 

Buffy’s eyes widened in alarm. “You what?”

 

“I asked Spike to go along,” Giles explained patiently. “I questioned him, and he speaks several languages. More importantly, he knows his way around London, and he’s quite capable of getting the both of you out of trouble.”

 

Buffy didn’t like the sound of that. “Why Spike, though, Giles? Willow could go with me.”

 

“Willow hasn’t avoided customs agents for the last century,” Giles responded. “I’m not expecting trouble, Buffy, but if I were to go with you, I would know how to get us both out of the country and back to the States through other channels if necessary. Or, at worst, I’d be able to get you back.” He grimaced. “Where the Council is concerned, I’ve learned to plan for the worst, even if I like to expect the best.”

 

Buffy knew that she wasn’t getting out of this one. “Fine. When do we leave?”

 

“The day after tomorrow,” Giles replied. “Time is apparently of the essence, according to Miles. You’ll leave on an evening flight and have a layover in New York. With any luck, you’ll get into Heathrow in the early hours of the morning, giving you both plenty of time to find a hotel room before the sun comes up.”

 

Buffy wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that either. “ _A_ hotel room? As in, one room?” She crossed her arms. “Come on, Giles. You can’t expect us to share a room.”

 

“The Council is paying for one room,” Giles replied. “Mostly because they’re only expecting one of you. If I were to pay for a second room, that would give them warning that you’re to have company, and I want to keep that a surprise.”

 

Buffy frowned. “What do you know that I don’t?”

 

“I don’t know anything that I haven’t told you,” Giles assured her. “It’s simply that I have a premonition that you’ll want to be careful on this trip, Buffy. I think it’s necessary to go, but I don’t want you taking any more chances than you have to. I trust Miles, but he’s been quite secretive.”

 

She still didn’t like the idea, but she could understand Giles’ concerns. Refusing to go, if it really was the kind of emergency that only the Slayer could deal with, might result in the loss of innocent lives. Giles couldn’t go, but Buffy was on summer break, so it wasn’t like her schedule was full.

 

Even the thought of sharing a room with Spike wasn’t all that disturbing—not nearly as disturbing as it probably should have been. The fact was that the dreams had been particularly vivid lately, ever since Riley had left for good. He’d had a few weeks’ worth of leave, and he’d spent the first two of them with her before flying back to Iowa.

 

Although Buffy didn’t love Riley, she cared about him deeply. But Riley needed a job, and he liked being in the army. It was where he was meant to be, and it hadn’t taken long for both of them to realize that.

 

Besides, Buffy hadn’t been able to ask him to stay just for her. Riley had offered, and the only response she’d been able to give him was, “I think you should do what you want to do.”

 

Obviously, he hadn’t wanted to stay in Sunnydale.

 

Explaining to her mom that she had to go to England on Council business was a lot easier than Buffy had expected it to be. “You’re going alone?” Joyce asked doubtfully. “I don’t know, Buffy. I think it would be better if you had someone with you.”

 

With an inward sigh, Buffy responded, “Spike’s going. Giles already asked him, and I guess he said yes.” She did not tell her mother about the single hotel room, or Giles’ paranoia. There were some things it was better not to burden her mother with.

 

The relief that passed over Joyce’s face was immediate. “Oh, good. Well, if you have Spike with you, I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

 

That was another byproduct of Spike helping them out on a regular basis. Although her mom had never been scared of the vampire, they now seemed to have a solid friendship. Buffy had only recently learned that Spike had stopped by last year nearly every week to have hot chocolate or a cup of tea with Joyce.

 

“Why do you like Spike so much, Mom?” Buffy asked, feeling inexplicably frustrated. After all, it was a lot harder to come up with reasons why she shouldn’t like Spike when her mother was so fond of him.

 

Joyce smiled. “I’m not sure, sweetheart. Call it a mother’s intuition.”

 

It wasn’t much of an answer, but Buffy didn’t want to press. “I’ve got to go, Mom. I’m meeting the gang at the Bronze.”

 

As she’d expected, explaining that she was going to London on Council business was a lot easier than telling her friends that she was going with Spike.

 

“Why Spike?” Xander demanded. “Come on, Buffy. Tell Giles to let you take one of us.”

 

Willow was looking equally upset, although Buffy had her suspicions that it was more to do with the fact that she wanted to go to London, than any problem with Spike accompanying her. “I could go,” Willow pointed out. “I’m all with the magic.”

 

“Yeah, but you guys have never been over there, and Spike has,” Buffy pointed out. “I told Giles the same thing, but he insisted.”

 

Xander scowled. “I don’t see why Giles likes that bleached pest so much.”

 

“They are both English,” Willow pointed out. “And, Giles is right. Spike does know the country better than we do.”

 

Trust Willow to look at the situation logically, Buffy thought. “I’d take you if I could, Xander, but I can’t this time. I’ll be fine. Besides, I thought you kind of liked Spike.”

 

Xander’s alarmed expression was priceless. “Buffy, he’s a _vampire_.”

 

“He was a big help against Adam,” Willow pointed out reasonably. “I kind of like him.”

 

The young man scowled. “He’s not so bad,” Xander admitted grudgingly. “I just don’t trust him.”

 

“Well, let’s hope that I _can_ trust him,” Buffy replied. “Otherwise, I could find myself in a whole heap of trouble.”

 

Truer words were never spoken.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike tossed his half-full duffel bag into the backseat of the car, then swung himself inside. “Didn’t think you’d bought a new car yet, Watcher,” he commented.

 

“It’s not mine; Joyce was kind enough to let me borrow it for the occasion.” Giles turned. “Did you get the papers?”

 

Spike nodded shortly. “Yeah. Said I would, didn’t I?”

 

“What papers?” Buffy asked.

 

“Passport, proper identification, that sort of thing,” Spike said. “Rupert here didn’t want to involve himself because he wanted to keep it quiet. Apparently, he didn’t trust me to get it done.”

 

“I did not say that,” Giles said peevishly. “All I wanted to know was whether you’d gotten it done, because if you hadn’t, there’d be a problem with you traveling with Buffy. We’d have to ship you in a coffin or something.”

 

“Thank you, but no,” Spike replied, shuddering. “We did that once, an’ it wasn’t pleasant. There’s no way I’d go that way again.”

 

Buffy half-turned in her seat to look at him. “When was that?”

 

Spike hesitated, not sure that he wanted to bring up his ex, particularly not when they were planning on spending the next few days in one another’s company. “Was a while ago,” he said finally.

 

“But where were you traveling?” Buffy pressed.

 

Spike sighed, resigned to the fact that she was going to keep pushing until she got the answers she wanted. “It was when we came over from Prague,” he admitted. “Dru was too weak to travel any other way.”

 

“Oh.” Buffy turned to face the front again, and Spike rolled his eyes, knowing that neither Giles nor the Slayer were able to see him. It really was a bit much; Buffy always asked questions that she didn’t want to hear the answer to, and then she took her displeasure out on him.

 

“What was so bad about it?” she asked after a few moment’s silence.

 

Spike was a little surprised that she had continued her line of questioning, considering how prickly she normally got when Drusilla’s name was mentioned. “Couldn’t move, couldn’t see, couldn’t smoke,” Spike said. “It was bloody awful.”

 

He had been just a touch claustrophobic for weeks afterwards.

 

Buffy nodded slowly. “I can see that.”

 

“This is the way to go,” Spike said. “Flying first class.”

 

“You’re not flying first class,” Giles said.

 

Spike scowled. “You said we were when you asked me to take this little jaunt.”

 

Giles smirked. “No, I think what I said was that I would look into it. I did, and it was much too expensive. Besides, the Council is paying for Buffy’s ticket, and they wouldn’t even consider sending her first class. You’ll both just have to make do in coach.”

 

Buffy frowned. “We are sitting next to each other, though, right? I mean, the whole point of Spike going with me is for us to stick together.”

 

Spike raised an eyebrow. That was quite a change from the Slayer’s usual tune, and he had to wonder what had brought it about. Normally, she couldn’t wait to get rid of him, but it seemed that she’d finally come to see the value in having him around.

 

“You’re traveling together,” Giles said, his tone vague. “I made certain that you had a window seat, and Spike had the aisle.”

 

Buffy frowned. “Why would Spike get the aisle?”

 

“I thought you wanted the window,” Giles responded.

 

“Yeah, but—”

 

“I get the aisle because it means I’ll be less likely to burst into flame should things get sunny,” Spike said for the Watcher. “An’ if something happens, they’ll have to go through me to get to you. That’s what my presence on this trip is all about, after all.”

 

Buffy turned in her seat again. “If that’s what it’s all about, then why did you even agree to go?”

 

Spike had asked himself the same question more than once, and he still hadn’t come up with a satisfactory answer. “Because he’s paying me, an’ it would be nice to see the mother country again.”

 

She seemed to accept that answer and settled back in her seat without further questions. When they got to the Sunnydale airport, Giles let them both out at the doors, obviously not planning on waiting for their flight to leave.

 

Spike went around to the driver’s side door to get his ticket from the Watcher, and to get any final instructions. Buffy, always impatient, was already inside the airport. “What are you really worried about?” he asked.

 

“I don’t know,” Giles admitted. “I just know that I’d rather that Buffy wasn’t alone. Miles didn’t sound terribly surprised when I told him that I wouldn’t be able to go, and he immediately insisted that Buffy be the one to meet him instead. As I explained to Buffy, I trust Miles, but it’s always best to prepare for the worst where the Council is concerned.”

 

Spike nodded. “Might be a cake walk, or it might be a trap then.”

 

“Precisely.” Giles pressed a roll of bills into Spike’s hand. “I’ve already given Buffy some money,” he said in a low voice. “That will get you through any ordinary expenses.”

 

Spike raised a scarred eyebrow. “What’s this for then?”

 

“Extraordinary expenses.” Giles gave him a nod. “Good luck, Spike, and take care of her.”

 

Spike nodded. “Yeah, you got it, Rupert.”

 

~~~~~

 

The first leg of their trip was surprisingly smooth. There had been the flight from Sunnydale to Houston, then they had caught their connecting flight to New York City. All that time, Spike had been amazingly civilized. He’d been polite to the flight attendants, had even charmed a second drink for the both of them. Spike had even been incredibly solicitous of her well being—at least, for him.

 

Once in New York, they had a long layover, mostly to avoid flying while the sun was still up. By taking the red eye from Sunnydale, they had managed to fly into JFK and get to the gate for the flight on British Airways before the sun came up. They would leave late in the evening and get in early the following morning, London time.

 

Spike had already checked the weather in London, and it appeared as though they were forecasting heavy clouds and rain, so he’d be safe enough.

 

Of course, all that meant that they had 12 hours to kill, and nothing to do.

 

“I hate airports,” Buffy announced.

 

Spike was sprawled out in a chair, his head tilted back. “Why don’t you go get yourself somethin’ to eat?”

 

“I’m not hungry.” Buffy looked over at him. “What about you?”

 

“What about me?” he asked.

 

“Aren’t you hungry?”

 

“Ate before I left,” Spike replied. “I’ve gone longer without food before.”

 

Buffy sighed, shifting listlessly. “Why did you agree to come, Spike?”

 

“Told you already,” he responded. “For the money.”

 

“That can’t be the only reason,” Buffy objected. “You’ve been working with us for how long now?”

 

Spike shrugged. “Dunno. A while.”

 

Buffy knew exactly how long. “Seven months. You helped us against Adam, too, even though you didn’t get anything out of the deal.”

 

Spike raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t say that, necessarily. You’ve been a hell of a lot nicer since then.”

 

Buffy scowled. “You didn’t get anything tangible out of it, like money or anything.”

 

“Dunno. Your Watcher brought me a real nice bottle of Scotch as a thank you.”

 

If anything, that only pissed Buffy off more. “I want to know why.”

 

“Why what?”

 

“Why you’re helping!”

 

Spike frowned. “What does it matter?”

 

Buffy pegged him with a glare. “Spike, we’re going to London together. If all goes well, we’re still going to be spending the next five days together. I’d like to know that I can trust you.”

 

Spike was quiet for a moment, then he admitted, “I don’t know.”

 

“You don’t know what?”

 

“I don’t know why ‘m goin’.” Spike leaned back in his seat once again, closing his eyes. “All I know is that your Watcher said you needed me on this one, an’ it sounded like an interesting way to spend the time.”

 

Buffy frowned. “And Adam?”

 

Spike cracked one eyelid. “Trusted you lot a hell of a lot more than that freak show. I had no reason to believe he’d keep his promise; at least Rupert showed up with my fags on time.”

 

Buffy fell silent after that, thinking about what Spike had said, what his changing loyalties might mean. At the very least, it seemed to indicate that vampires could change.

 

Or that one vampire could.

 

~~~~~

 

It _was_ raining when they landed in London, the sun hidden behind thick banks of clouds; Spike was more than a little relieved. Giles had done him the favor of calling the airlines ahead of time, warning them that he had a sun allergy, and while exposure wouldn’t kill him, it would cause serious burns.

 

Spike was impressed at both Giles’ foresight and his ability to carry out a good lie. The fight attendants had been very helpful indeed, and a couple of the women had been extra attentive. Spike, never one to pass up an opportunity to get something for free, had charmed his way into several of those little bottles of liquor. He’d drunk a couple, and stolen a few more as the cart passed by while he pretended to sleep.

 

Buffy, of course, had seethed the entire time, although to all outward appearances she had been reading her fashion magazine or sleeping. Spike’s enhanced senses told him that she wasn’t doing either—although she might have been reading if the article was enough to raise her blood pressure, and if it took her twenty minutes to turn the page.

 

Spike didn’t think that it was likely.

 

“I need you to follow my lead, luv,” Spike murmured as they approached the customs’ agents.

 

“What? Why?” Buffy’s eyes narrowed. “What are you going to do?”

 

“I’m going to get us through this as painlessly as possible,” Spike hissed back. “’ve done this before.”

 

Buffy glared at him. “I can take care of myself, Spike.”

 

He probably should have let her try, but Spike wanted to pass through without too much trouble. It would be better, should they end up having problems, to leave no mark. Customs’ agents remembered problems like they wouldn’t remember a young, blond couple.

 

“Look, Slayer,” he said as they moved ever nearer. “We want to get through without them remembering we came this way. I’m a pro at that.” Buffy gave him a skeptical look, and Spike snorted. “How do you think I survived this long?”

 

She frowned, then rolled her eyes. “Fine, but I reserve the right to say I told you so.”

 

“Fair enough,” Spike said.

 

He couldn’t help the smug grin that formed as soon as they’d passed through without even getting a second glance. Showed the agents his British passport, mentioned how he wanted to introduce his girlfriend to the family, and they were done.

 

Spike waited for Buffy to say something, but she remained silent, and he glanced over to see if she was upset about being wrong. Instead of looking angry, however, Buffy merely appeared thoughtful. “Something up, pet?”

 

“How do you do that?” she asked.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Look like someone else,” Buffy replied. “You do the same thing around my mom. She really likes you, you know.”

 

Spike shrugged, knowing what she meant, but unsure of how to answer. “Comes from years of experience.”

 

Buffy nodded, not saying anything more.

 

Spike chose not to press the issue; he led the way to the baggage claim, where they both picked up their suitcases—a neat black case on rollers for Buffy and a beat-up duffel bag for him. Spike supposed that luggage said a lot about the person carrying it. The Slayer’s suitcase was perfectly normal, perhaps reflecting her own desire to blend in with the rest of the crowd.

 

He didn’t quite understand that longing, mostly because William _had_ blended in; once upon a time, Spike had been utterly unremarkable, and he didn’t understand why anyone would want that kind of anonymity.

 

And yet, he did understand, because he’d never wanted a grand destiny, and he’d have bucked it if he’d had one. No matter what Giles had suggested about being meant for something different, Spike didn’t buy it for one moment. He’d joined up because he needed blood, cigarettes and violence, and the Scoobies represented a regular supply of all three.

 

Buffy wanted normalcy because she would never have it, just as he had wanted to be special, because William never had been.

 

It was a conundrum.

 

When they arrived at the hotel, Spike was actually grateful for the two beds, mostly because there was a lesser chance that Buffy would stake him.

 

And no chance that he’d accidentally cop a feel. Or not-so-accidentally.

 

To his surprise, Buffy didn’t say anything about sharing a room. All she did say was, “We’re meeting Giles’ friend tonight. Are you coming along?”

 

Spike shook his head. “Not so he can see me, but I’ll be around. Your Watcher told me to keep an eye on you, an’ it might be easier to do that if no one knows I’m there.”

 

Buffy took a deep breath. “Okay.”

 

“Okay?”

 

“Okay.” She shrugged. “It makes sense, I guess.”

 

Spike raised an eyebrow. “You actually admitting that I might have a good idea once in a while, Slayer?”

 

“Once in a _great_ while,” she shot back. “And you don’t know the Council like I do, Spike. They’re up to something sneaky; I can feel it.”

 

Spike nodded. “And that’s why I’m stayin’ back. We both better get some sleep if we’re going to be fresh, pet.”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Buffy replied.

 

Spike lay on the bed, fully clothed, listening as Buffy’s breathing slowed and evened out. It was an odd experience for him—to be entrusted with the Slayer’s life. He supposed that he’d earned that trust, in a way, after what he’d done for them against Adam.

 

Still, Spike had thought of himself as the Slayer of Slayers for a long time, and now he’d been asked to make sure that nothing happened to one. Not only that, but he was being asked to protect her from the very people who were supposed to be in charge of her welfare.

 

It was an odd change, but one that felt—almost right.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy could sense Spike in the background as she approached the pub where she’d been instructed to meet Miles, Giles’ friend.

 

And how weird did that sound in her head?

 

She was grateful to have Spike at her back, although she could hardly believe that thought had passed through her head. The vampire was definitely growing on her; he hadn’t been nearly as irritating on this trip as he was back in Sunnydale, maybe because it was just the two of them.

 

Or maybe it was something else altogether.

 

Buffy wasn’t sure how she was going to deal with sharing a room with Spike; he’d taken a shower right after her, then he’d wandered out of the bathroom without a shirt on.

 

The fact that Spike’s _chest_ was enough to render her speechless was a bad sign, Buffy was sure of it. What would happen if she caught a glimpse of something more? Her brains would probably dribble out her ears, that’s what, and she would forget what a bad idea lusting after a vampire was.

 

Of course, lusting after a soulless vampire wasn’t so bad. It would be acting on the lust; that would be really bad, and it was something that she absolutely wasn’t going to do. Really.

 

Buffy glanced around the interior of the pub, shaking off all thoughts of Spike. Although Giles had given her a description of Miles, it was only enough to eliminate half the patrons, which still left a number of middle-aged Englishmen. She frowned, trying to locate one who was eating alone, hoping that Miles wasn’t pulling one over on her by cornering her with a bunch of Council goons.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

Buffy glanced up. And up. And up. An incredibly tall, thin man towered over her, smiling diffidently. He was dressed in rumpled clothing that looked a little too small for him, and Buffy liked him immediately; he had kind eyes. “Um, hi?” she responded.

 

“Are you Buffy Summers?” When she nodded, he held out a hand, somehow conveying earnest enthusiasm without his voice changing from its low pitch. “So nice to finally meet you! I’m Miles Brannon. Rupert has told me so much about you.”

 

Buffy found herself smiling back; it was almost impossible not to. “I hope some of it was good.”

 

“Oh, all of it was good,” Miles assured her. He glanced around the pub uneasily, and his wariness sent Buffy’s Slayer senses tingling. “Would you mind a walk?” he asked. “I’m not sure this is the best place to talk.”

 

Buffy nodded, deciding to trust him, and knowing that Spike would follow. “Sure.”

 

He led her outside and down the damp street. “Rupert is quite fond of you, you know. As much as I would have liked to see him, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” He gave her a concerned look, some of his good humor dissipating. “Did you come alone?”

 

“Yeah, of course,” Buffy said, hoping that he didn’t see through her lie. “I thought that’s what you wanted.”

 

Miles nodded. “Yes, well, I had honestly expected Rupert to read between the lines and send someone with you. If the Council finds out what I’ve told you, or what I’ve given you…” He trailed off. “This is very important, you see.”

 

“I’m getting that,” Buffy murmured. “What can I do for you?”

 

Miles just smiled. “It’s not what you can do for me, my dear girl. It’s what I can do for you.” He handed her a leather case surreptitiously, in such a manner that let Buffy know he wasn’t used to the cloak-and-dagger. “You’ll want to keep that safe. I imagine when the Council finds out that it’s missing, there will be quite the uproar.”

 

Buffy frowned, beginning to get alarmed. “Is it stolen?”

 

“By all rights, it’s yours, or it should be,” Miles responded. “That case holds the answers to what it means to be the Slayer. Or it will take you there. It holds the key.”

 

Buffy touched the scarred leather. “I don’t understand. What kind of answers?”

 

“That, I do not know,” Miles admitted. “When I first heard about this, I was intrigued, curious. The more I discovered, the more obstacles I found shoved in my way. As I grew closer to the truth, I knew that Rupert must have this information, or that _you_ must.”

 

Buffy shook her head, confused. In her experience, Watchers were loyal to the Council, not to the Slayers that they supposedly served. In fact, it seemed that the Slayers served the Council, and it was rare for a Watcher to believe otherwise. Buffy had thought that Giles was the only one with some common sense, but maybe she should have given his friend the benefit of the doubt.

 

“Why?”

 

“Because you fight alone, and I don’t believe that it has to be that way,” Miles responded, his eyes alight with a holy fire. “And because you have the right to know the truth, even if it’s at the expense of the Council.”

 

Buffy opened her mouth to reply, but she heard a muffled popping sound and watched in horror as a red blotch bloomed on Miles’ blue shirt. He stared at her with wide eyes, then stumbled towards her. “Do not let them keep the truth from you.”

 

There was another popping sound, and yet another red spot appeared on his chest, right over his heart. Buffy caught his falling body, ducking down low, looking around wildly for the source of the shots. She couldn’t see anyone on the apparently deserted streets.

 

“Buffy!”

 

Spike’s voice rang out through the damp air, but she couldn’t see him. What she did see was a gunman standing on the other side of the street, the barrel of his pistol leveled at her.

 

It was almost as if everything was happening in slow motion. Buffy could see the gunman’s finger tightening on the trigger, and she let go of Miles’ rapidly cooling body, throwing herself into the nearest doorway.

 

The gun went off again, the stray shot hitting the brickwork next to her head, and Buffy could see two other men coming out of the shadows, converging on her location.

 

Spike was suddenly at her side, seemingly coming out of nowhere, grabbling her hand and pulling her into his chest, shielding her body with his own. He pulled her down, running half-crouched while he pushed her ahead of him.

 

“Where are we going?” Buffy gasped as they rounded a corner, keeping her voice down to prevent their pursuers from overhearing.

 

He shook his head. “Back to the hotel to get our stuff, then I’ll find us a different place to crash tonight. What did that anorak give you?”

 

“He’s not an anorak, whatever that means,” Buffy replied, knowing the term was derogatory just from his tone of voice. The shock was still overwhelming, and it was a relief to drop back into her usual exchange with Spike. Maybe she dealt in death every night, but this was different. “They killed him.”

 

“Yeah, they did,” Spike said, hurrying her along with a hand at her back.

 

Buffy realized belatedly that they probably looked like a couple out for a stroll, but she didn’t have the strength to throw off Spike’s touch. “Why?”

 

“I imagine we’ll have the answer to that when we see what he gave you.” Spike pulled her along. “That’s going to have to wait, though. Right now, we just need to get back to Sunnydale in one piece. That’s what I promised your Watcher.”

 

Buffy nodded, but she wasn’t thinking of Spike’s promise; she was thinking of the dying words of a stranger. He’d told her not to let them keep her from the truth, and Buffy thought that she owed him that much.

 

She had to try, anyway.


	3. Lyons, France

Spike was ravenous; it had been four days since he’d had anything to eat, and he would need to grab something soon. He couldn’t help but replay the previous evening’s events over and over in his mind; the Slayer could have easily been killed, and then what would he have told Giles?

 

That reminded him that they still hadn’t contacted the Watcher, and they owed him a phone call at the very least. Spike’s immediate thought had been to get to a secure place and then decide what their next step ought to be. Buffy had followed him willingly up to the point where he’d suggested that they catch the next flight back to Sunnydale.

 

“No, Spike,” she’d said stubbornly. “I want to know why it was so important to the Council that I not get that information.”

 

“You don’t know that it was the Council,” Spike had argued. “Could’ve been some maniacs with guns. There’s plenty of them around.”

 

“Miles wanted me to have this,” she’d said, holding up the leather case. “I need to know why. He _died_ to make sure I got it.”

 

Spike had sighed and agreed; it did seem a bit odd that a gunman would come out of nowhere to shoot what appeared to be an innocent man. At the same time, they didn’t know anything about this Miles character, other than the fact that he was one of Giles’ old friends.

 

People changed, though, and Miles might have been no different.

 

Buffy still lay sleeping, oblivious to the fact that it was approaching late afternoon. Once they had retrieved their things from the hotel room, Spike had kept them moving, either walking or taking the Tube for fear someone might be tracing their movements. It had only been when he was certain that no one was following them that he had checked them into a rundown inn that had been around the last time he was in London, nearly twenty years before.

 

Judging from the ancient, threadbare furniture, and the old fashioned wallpaper and shag carpet, there weren’t a lot of people aware of its existence these days.

 

She began to stir, waking slowly. “Spike?”

 

“Here, Slayer,” he said from his position near the window.

 

Buffy sat up. “What time is it?”

 

“Late afternoon. Just waiting for the sun to go down now.”

 

“Where are we going next?” she asked. “We can’t stay here forever.”

 

Spike shrugged. “That would be up to you, wouldn’t it? Have to see what that prat left you.”

 

“Don’t call him that,” she ordered. “It’s not nice, and he’s dead.”

 

Spike snarled. “I’ll talk about him any way I like, considering that he nearly got you killed. If Rupert had gone, those gunmen would have been after him, too. You thought about that yet?”

 

Judging from the expression on her face, Buffy hadn’t given that idea much consideration. “You’re going to need to eat soon,” she observed, changing the subject.

 

Spike nodded. “Yeah, I will. Have to find a butcher’s later.”

 

“So what are we going to do?”

 

He motioned towards the leather case sitting on the battered table next to the bed—the only one in the room. Spike had resisted the lure of sleep for just that reason; he had a feeling that Buffy might not react too kindly to his suggestion that they share, and one of them needed to keep an eye out for trouble. “Let’s see what he gave you, yeah?”

 

Buffy tossed the covers off, revealing her fully-clad form. Spike had warned her not to change, in case they had to leave quickly. In Spike’s experience, they wouldn’t have the time to spare to get dressed if someone located them.

 

She unzipped the leather case, revealing several pieces of old parchment paper, yellowed and crumbling at the edges, as well as a pad of paper, covered with scribbled notes. Making a face, Buffy picked up one of the loose pages carefully. “It’s not in English.”

 

“Give it here,” Spike said.

 

Buffy gave him a dirty look. “No.”

 

“Let me see it,” he said, growing frustrated.

 

“Why?” Buffy said. “You said that you wanted to go back to Sunnydale.”

 

“I said that we didn’t know what we were getting ourselves into,” Spike shot back. “If I don’t bring you back in one piece, your Watcher will stake me. We don’t know what that git wanted.”

 

“Stop calling him names!” Buffy said, rising to stand toe-to-toe with him. “He was Giles’ friend, and now he’s dead!”

 

Spike seized her by the arms. “And it’s not your bloody fault!”

 

Buffy twisted free of his grip. “Shut up, Spike.”

 

“It’s not,” he insisted, recognizing that he’d managed to hit the nail on the head. “The Council wankers were likely the ones behind this, and you can’t take credit for their idiocy.”

 

“He was Giles’ friend,” Buffy objected weakly. “I was—”

 

“And he knew what he was doing was dangerous. Let the blame rest where it should; we need to focus on getting out of this with our skins intact,” Spike insisted.

 

Buffy glared at him. “You’re really sick, you know that? You don’t care at all that someone died last night, do you?”

 

“Long as it wasn’t me or you, Summers, I don’t give a rat’s ass.”

 

Buffy scowled. “Fine.”

 

Spike moved to pick up one of the older pieces of parchment. “It’s in Latin.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“The language is Latin,” Spike replied. “Go call your Watcher and get cleaned up. I’ll look it over and see what I can do with it.”

 

“You know Latin?” Buffy asked incredulously.

 

“Used to,” Spike said in as repressive a tone as possible. He didn’t want to deal with her questions.

 

Buffy gave him a sharp look. “And you can read it now?”

 

“If I can’t, we’re buggered,” Spike replied, sitting down to work, deciding to completely ignore the Slayer for the time being.

 

~~~~~

 

The conversation with Giles went about as well as Buffy had expected; her Watcher got very quiet, and then asked after her well-being. “I’m fine,” she replied. “We’re working on figuring out what the Council didn’t want me to know.”

 

“Perhaps you’d better come home, Buffy,” Giles suggested. “This may just be a wild goose chase.”

 

“Would someone have killed him over a wild good chase, Giles?” she asked impatiently. “He wanted me to find this; it was important to him. I got him killed, and—”

 

“You were not responsible for his death,” Giles said sharply. “You can’t blame yourself for the actions of others.”

 

“Giles—”

 

“Let me talk to Spike,” he said.

 

Buffy sighed and handed the phone to the vampire. “Here.”

 

She listened to Spike’s side of the conversation for a few moments, then went to take a shower, since the vampire’s responses were monosyllabic and told her nothing. The bathroom was at the end of the hallway, shared with the rest of the floor, which Buffy found strange. Spike had informed her that their floor was relatively unoccupied, so that was something.

 

By the time she got back to their room, Spike was off the phone, looking at the notes and the old documents.

 

“What did he say?”

 

“Said to be careful and to keep in touch,” Spike said.

 

When he didn’t continue, Buffy plopped down in the sole chair in the room. “How long are we staying here?”

 

“We leave tonight,” Spike said. “Next stop looks like it’s going to be Lyon.”

 

Buffy frowned. The name sounded familiar, but she wasn’t sure why. “Where’s that?”

 

“France, near the middle,” Spike replied. “According to this, the Watcher’s Council used to be centered there back in the Middle Ages. They hid some important documents in an old abbey.”

 

“And that’s what the Council doesn’t want me to know about?” Buffy asked.

 

Spike shrugged. “S’pose so. Hard to say without finding the documents themselves. ‘ve been there a couple of times, and it’s a nice city. Plenty of tourists to snack on when I was there with Dru.”

 

Buffy raised an eyebrow. “You won’t be snacking on tourists this time.”

 

“Hardly,” Spike said, catching her eye. “Besides, that’s not the point of this little jaunt, is it?”

 

“No.” Buffy hesitated. “Can we do this, Spike?”

 

He met her eyes. “What do you mean?”

 

“Can we do this without either of us being killed?”

 

“Dunno, but I reckon we’ve got a fighting chance,” he replied, without providing much reassurance. “We’d best get ready to go. I’ll need to make a stop at a bar I know of, and then we’ve got a long trip ahead of us.”

 

~~~~~

 

Lyon was pretty much as Spike remembered it—a city redolent with history, the way that so few American cities were. He could smell the age in the stones that lined the streets, the way he could in London, depending on the location.

 

It was no wonder that older vampires tended to flock to Europe; it felt more comfortable.

 

Of course, Spike had always been one to change with the times—to a certain extent, anyway; he embraced change, but only when it suited him to do so.

 

The chip had been a different story, although Spike had managed to roll with that punch. The Initiative had meant to de-fang him, but all they’d managed to do was to redirect his energies to something a bit different.

 

They had not destroyed him, not by a long shot.

 

After a quick stop at a demon bar that carried blood, Spike had purchased tickets for the both of them. They’d taken the Chunnel from London to Paris, then the train to Lyon. According to the papers that Miles had given Buffy, one of the old monasteries in the area had housed a sect dedicated to the hunting and destruction of demons.

 

The very idea made the hairs on the back of Spike’s neck stand up, but that’s where the information was leading them, therefore, that’s where they were going.

 

“Room for two, please,” Spike said in French, leaning up against the counter of the hotel. It was near the Basilique de Saint-Jean, which was supposedly where these important papers were kept.

 

The girl behind the counter smiled at him. “You are on your honeymoon?”

 

Spike started to deny it, and then he gave her a winning smile. “That’s right. What gave it away?”

 

Her smile grew smug. “You are very tired, no?”

 

Spike shrugged. “You know how it goes.” He paid for two nights, frowning at the dwindling bills. If they didn’t get some answers soon, it was entirely possible that they might run out of money, which could get—interesting.

 

“Let’s go, luv,” he said in a low voice when it appeared that Buffy wasn’t paying much attention; neither of them had gotten much sleep over the last two days, and the dark circles under the Slayer’s eyes were proof.

 

“Two beds or one?” she asked, sounding rather resigned to her fate, whatever it happened to be. Spike thought that the last couple of days had shown her that there were worse things in the world than sharing a bed with him.

 

“One. Have to save money where we can.”

 

“I’ve got some that Giles gave me,” Buffy replied.

 

“We’ll dig into that when we need it,” Spike assured her. “We don’t know how long this is going to take.”

 

Buffy followed him into their room, letting her suitcase drop with a thump at the foot of the bed. “I think we should go to the abbey tomorrow night. I know I’m too tired to do much tonight.”

 

“It’ll be closed,” he warned her. “We’ll have to break in you know.”

 

She shrugged. “Then we have to break in. If they’re hiding information on Slayers that I can use, I’m not going to feel all that bad.” Buffy gave him a sympathetic look. “I’ll see if I can’t find a butcher’s shop tomorrow afternoon. I know you’ve got to be hungry.”

 

Spike shrugged. “A bit. Think I’ll live, though—in a manner of speaking.”

 

Their eyes met, and Buffy nodded. “I’m going to change.”

 

Spike sank down on the bed and began unlacing his boots. He could go without sleep for a long time, but the last few days had done him in. He rose wearily and wedged an ancient, wooden chair under the doorknob. It wouldn’t hold for long if someone tried to break in, but at least the noise was sure to wake him.

 

He turned to see Buffy coming out of the bathroom, her face scrubbed free of makeup, dressed in a tank-top and shorts. Spike hesitated, then asked, “Shouldn’t you wear something a bit more substantial? If we have to make a run for it…”

 

“I can fight in this,” Buffy said practically. “Besides, it’s hot, and there’s no air conditioning in here.”

 

Spike shrugged. He hadn’t paid much attention to the temperature, but Buffy would know. “Yeah, fine.” Lying down on the bed, he couldn’t quite believe it when Buffy flipped off the light and gingerly settled down next to him.

 

“Thanks for doing this.”

 

He blinked in the darkness, glancing over at her in surprise. Spike could just make out her features in the dim light. “What’s that?”

 

“You didn’t have to do this,” Buffy said. “I know Giles asked you to come with me, but this could just be some wild goose chase. We don’t even know what we’re looking for, just that the Council doesn’t want me to have it.”

 

“That’s enough for me,” Spike said. “Never did like those wankers anyway.”

 

He could feel her shift next to him. “You want to tell me the real reason you’re doing this?”

 

Spike sighed. He still didn’t have an answer to that question. “It’s a bit of a lark, innit?”

 

Buffy let out an annoyed breath of air. “You know I don’t understand you when you use all those British words, right?”

 

Spike’s lips quirked into a smile he knew she couldn’t see. “Don’t go getting all shirty with me, Slayer.” He was unsurprised when she thumped him on the chest, although not quite hard enough to hurt. Spike chuckled. “Just meant that it could be fun, an’ it’s certainly better than stayin’ in Sunnyhell all summer.”

 

“I guess so.”

 

“Something on your mind?”

 

“Not really.”

 

Spike waited, knowing that she had more to say. It was obvious that Buffy wasn’t quite ready to go to sleep yet. “Just spit it out, Summers.”

 

“It’s nothing. Just—do you ever think about the spell?”

 

Spike didn’t have to ask her which spell she was referring to. “On occasion,” he admitted cautiously. “Why?”

 

“No reason,” Buffy said, her voice carefully even. Spike could hear the jump in her heartbeat. “It’s just, you know, I think about it sometimes, too, and I wondered if I was the only one.”

 

“You aren’t the only one,” Spike said. “Now go to sleep, Buffy.”

 

Amazingly enough, she actually did as she was told for once.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy awoke with an arm around her waist. It was a different feeling, considering that the body behind her was lean and cool, rather than bulky and warm. Although, the cooler temperature was much appreciated in the sticky heat of the room. For a moment, Buffy allowed herself to relish the feeling that came with waking up in someone’s arms, and then she extricated herself carefully, not wanting to wake him.

 

She decided not to give Spike a hard time about it; after all, his hand hadn’t been in an inappropriate place, and he wasn’t responsible for what he did while he slept.

 

And, yes, Buffy did know just how much things had changed in a short period of time.

 

She took her clothing into the bathroom to dress, grateful that it was _en suite_ , rather than one shared with other guests. Scribbling a quick note for Spike, Buffy went downstairs, smiling at the clerk working the front desk. “Hi! I was wondering if there was a butcher’s shop nearby?”

 

The man gave her a skeptical look. “A butcher’s shop?” he asked in heavily accented English.

 

Buffy knew how it sounded, but Spike needed blood, and they wouldn’t have time to get it later. Breaking into an abbey was going to require him to be in tip-top shape. “Oh, you know, I work at my dad’s butcher shop back home,” Buffy said. “I just like to see how people do things differently. Professional curiosity.”

 

She was praying that he’d buy the lie, and that her face didn’t give her away. She’d rehearsed of the story ahead of time, though, knowing that they would probably have to ask for directions, and knowing that they had no reason to visit a butcher’s shop when they had no access to a kitchen.

 

The man was still giving her a bemused look, but Buffy pasted on her best “dumb blonde” smile and hoped for the best. He finally nodded, writing down the directions—in English, thank goodness. Buffy wished she’d paid more attention in her French classes in high school now, but she hadn’t thought she would ever _be_ in France. The chance that her Slayer duties would ever allow her to leave the Hellmouth had seemed too remote.

 

The directions were clear enough, and they led her right past a patisserie that had an incredible array of goodies in the window. Buffy bought several pastries, as well as one of the ubiquitous baguettes, and then stopped at the charcuterie next door for cheese and pâté on the nice clerk’s suggestion. “You need meat on your bones,” the lady had said with a smile. From there, it was a quick walk to the butcher’s, and Buffy found herself moving quickly, wanting to eat and knowing that Spike would be wondering where she was.

 

By the time she got back to the hotel, Buffy was hot, as well as starving. She was grateful that the butcher hadn’t given her any grief, and that his really cute son spoke good enough English that she could get her request across.

 

Spike didn’t look terribly happy when she let herself into the room. “Where have you been?” he demanded.

 

“I left you a note,” Buffy said, handing him the sack with the containers of blood. “And I got your blood.”

 

“What if someone saw you?” Spike asked irritably. “Not like I can save your arse doing daylight hours.”

 

“I can take care of myself,” Buffy replied pertly. “Besides, I was hungry.” She opened her own bag and took out the large Danish she’d purchased. She had no idea what the filling was, but it looked amazing.

 

Spike had already cracked open one container, and was beginning to drink. “Someone still could have seen you. What if they followed you back here? Not like I can run anywhere. And what kind of blood is this?”

 

“I made sure I wasn’t followed,” Buffy retorted. “Have you seen how many tourists are in this city? I’m just one among many. And it’s cow.”

 

“Huh.” Spike finished off the container. “Hell of a lot better than pig.”

 

Buffy watched as he pulled the second container out of the sack. “Hungry?”

 

“Won’t be after this,” Spike replied. He paused before opening the next one, glancing up at her, his expression almost shy. “Thanks.”

 

She smiled. “No problem. It was part of the deal, right?”

 

“Something like that.”

 

They ate their respective dinners in companionable silence after that.

 

~~~~~

 

“So where is this thing supposed to be?” Buffy whispered.

 

Spike shook his head. “Dunno, exactly. Your friend seemed to think it was supposed to be under the altar. Hard to imagine, though, because this place has been restored, so not all of it’s original.”

 

Buffy frowned; she didn’t like the sound of that. “So, what? We tap on the floor until we find a hollow space?”

 

He gave her a dirty look. “We’ve got some vague directions. I’m just sayin’ that it might not be all that easy, considering.”

 

“Considering what?”

 

“Considerin’ that this place has been around for over a thousand years, an’ there’s no telling whether what we’re looking for has been found or not,” Spike shot back.

 

“Miles thought it was there,” Buffy protested. “The Council must, too, since they’re so hell-bent on killing us.”

 

Spike shrugged. “An’ they could all be idiots who don’t know what’s really there. No way to find out without taking a look ourselves.” He heard Buffy sigh in the darkness next to him, and Spike cursed himself for a fool. Here he’d been straining to translate that sodding text for the last two days, every free moment he got, and she was giving him hell for not knowing whether they would find what it was they were looking for.

 

See if he ever did anything nice for her again.

 

“Where exactly are we headed?” Buffy finally asked.

 

“Inside, under the altar,” Spike replied, his tone sharp. “Buried with the bones of the saints.”

 

He could see her glare, but she didn’t respond to his irritation. “What are we waiting for, then?”

 

He’d been trying to get the lay of the land, and attempting to make sure that they wouldn’t be caught. “Nothing. Let’s go.”

 

Spike led the way to the small, ancient building. The original structure had been built to survive raids by foreign invaders, and it had managed to remain standing through two world wars and the German occupation. Breaking in was not an easy task, but he managed; Spike had worked his way into a number of other, better guarded buildings after all.

 

Spike managed to get the back door open, looking around for any sign that the building was wired with an alarm. There was nothing immediately obvious, and so he led the way to the altar, below which the bones of saints were said to be buried.

 

He didn’t believe that for a moment, as nearly every religious structure built in the Middle Ages maintained a similar claim. It was hard to believe that every ancient relic was what people claimed it to be.

 

According to the documents that Miles had given Buffy, that was where the information was kept that no one wanted the Slayer to have. Whether the other claims were legit or not, Spike couldn’t believe that he was willingly going into a chapel, full of crosses and holy water.

 

He was beginning to seriously question his sanity.

 

Between he and Buffy, the altar was soon shifted to one side, and they both began to feel along the floor for any chink that they might use to get underneath the large flagstones; he thought that with both of them, they might manage to shift one if necessary. Suddenly, the whole floor began to move, and Spike scrambled out of the way to avoid tumbling into the hole that appeared.

 

Buffy looked at him with wide eyes. “Was that supposed to happen?”

 

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Spike replied. Lying on his stomach on the floor, Spike felt around inside the hole; it was only about three feet square, but it felt as though it was only a couple of feet deep, which was exactly what he told Buffy.

 

“I’ll look,” she said. “Keep an eye out.” Buffy lowered herself into the hole carefully, and Spike kept one eye on her and one on the door.

 

He was beginning to get a little nervous; it was about time that something went wrong, considering their luck. “Better hurry, luv.”

 

“I’m hurrying,” she said irritably.

 

Spike heard a noise, and his head snapped around. He heard the quiet popping sound of a silenced pistol just before he felt the sting of the bullet; the pain blossomed in his back, causing him to bite back a curse. “Buffy, they’re shooting at us,” he hissed, dropping flat, hearing the whistle of the bullets over his head. “Move it!”

 

“Found it!” she exclaimed, handing something to him.

 

Spike took it, feeling the polished wood of some kind of lacquered box. Buffy lifted herself up out of the hole, staying close to the floor of the church. “We can’t go out the way we came in,” he said.

 

Buffy frowned into the darkness. “I know. We’re going to have to go through the window.”

 

The nearest window was the one behind the altar, and it was just narrow enough to cause him to pause. Spike could hear at least two other heartbeats, and while the gunfire had stopped for the moment, they would be presenting the unknown gunmen with a clear shot unless they could get through the window without stopping.

 

That was unlikely, given its size, and while the bullet wound he already had hurt like hell, it wasn’t fatal—not the way it might be for Buffy. They would have to do this another way.

 

Spike shook his head. “I’m going through the window; you’re going out the way we came in.”

 

Buffy frowned. “What? Spike—”

 

“I go through the window, and their attention is going to be on me, not you.” Spike jerked his head. “Go on, get out of here. I’ll meet you back at the hotel.”

 

He thought that she was going to argue with him, but instead she closed her mouth with a snap and merely nodded, taking the box that he handed back to her. “What about the hole?”

 

“Leave it,” Spike said. “We got what we came for.”

 

Buffy appeared torn, but she nodded. “Be careful.”

 

“Yeah, you too.” Spike watched as Buffy used the lectern for shelter, then dodged to the first row of pews. He didn’t hear any shots being fired, which suggested that they hadn’t seen Buffy’s quick dash to safety.

 

He shifted into game face, and stood deliberately. “You want a fight?” he called out. “You’ll have to catch me first!”

 

The first few shots missed him as he dodged the few steps to the back of the building, leaping up to the narrow ledge just below the window. Spike felt a bullet strike his left thigh, and then his right side, before he broke through the stained glass to land on the ground below, rolling to take some of the impact from his injured leg.

 

He spared a moment to wonder if the Slayer had made it out okay, then decided that there was nothing he could do about it at the moment. Spike would just have to hope that she had.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy had found it remarkably easy to slip out the back door while all eyes were focused on the vampire silhouetted against the window. She moved as silently as possible, not wanting to alert the gunmen to her presence, knowing that Spike was trying to make sure that she didn’t get killed.

 

She wasn’t sure that she wanted to examine his motives for that too closely.

 

Buffy would have tried to take a different route back to the hotel; if she’d been at home, she could have taken as many twists and turns as were necessary to throw off any pursuers. In a strange town, in a strange country, that didn’t seem like such a great idea.

 

Instead, she made bee-line for their hotel, then ducked down the street just before she reached their corner, hiding in a handy alleyway.

 

She heard footfalls approaching, and Buffy pressed herself against the wall, holding her breath to keep from making a sound.

 

The curses that she heard had her smiling smugly. Whoever or whatever was following her had apparently lost her trail, and Buffy waited a few more minutes to be sure that they weren’t standing outside the alley waiting for her to emerge. She didn’t want to risk a confrontation, not when they had guns and she had only a stake.

 

Buffy didn’t hesitate to go around to the back of their hotel, easily spotting the window to their room. She had been sure to leave it unlocked before they left that night, just in case, and now she climbed up the drain pipe, praying that it was sturdier than it looked.

 

Although it creaked under her weight, Buffy kept going until she was in reach of the decorative ironwork just outside their window. From there, it was a piece of cake to get inside the room.

 

Spike was nowhere to be seen, but Buffy didn’t hesitate to start packing their things, knowing that they would have to leave immediately upon his return. She placed the box inside her own suitcase, cushioning it with layers of clothing.

 

Buffy heard the sound of a rock against the windowpane, and she approached it cautiously, peering down into the tiny courtyard. Spike stood there, his arm raised to throw another pebble. “What are you doing?” she called softly, knowing that he would be able to hear her.

 

“Toss down our stuff,” he replied.

 

Buffy didn’t question his order, knowing by now that Spike probably had a good reason. If he didn’t, she could always kick his ass later. She sent down his duffel bag first, and then her suitcase. She followed both a moment later, landing lightly on her feet. “What’s up?” she whispered.

 

“Watchers out front,” Spike said. “We’re going to have to find a place to lie low for a day or two.”

 

Buffy frowned, concerned. “Are you okay? They didn’t shoot you, did they?”

 

“You’ll have to dig out the bullets,” Spike said by way of reply. “Got a place in mind, but it’s not in the best area of town.”

 

“That’s fine,” Buffy said. “I don’t think we can afford to be real choosy right now.”

 

He nodded. “Let’s go.”

 

Buffy followed him out of the courtyard, both of them moving as silently as possible through alleys that Spike seemed completely familiar with. Buffy was glad that Spike, at least, knew where he was going, because she wouldn’t have had the first clue.

 

While this wasn’t quite the European vacation she was hoping for, Buffy didn’t think she could have had a better guide. It seemed that Giles had known what he was doing after all.


	4. Sumer

Spike hadn’t been kidding when he told her the place they’d be staying wasn’t in the best area of town; what he hadn’t mentioned was the fact that it was square in the middle of a demon hang-out, although he’d been quick to point out that it was probably the last area anyone would be looking for them. At least, they wouldn’t look for her there.

 

He was sleeping now; Buffy had dug out the bullets she could find and had bandaged his wounds with the first aid kit she’d brought along with her.

 

Okay, Giles had been the one to insist she bring it, and he’d been right.

 

Buffy had opened the box as soon as Spike had gone to sleep, wanting to be the first one to look inside. It felt sacred to her, as if it was meant for the eyes of the Slayer only.

 

There were two pieces of a parchment-like substance, both covered in writing. Buffy didn’t recognize the symbols on one of them, but the second looked as though it had been written in French. She hoped that Spike would be able to decipher it once he woke up.

 

The rest of the contents included an ancient stone knife, a tarnished amulet with the figure of a woman just barely visible, and a piece of twine that appeared to be stained with blood and other things better left unknown. When she unraveled it from its tangle, she saw that it formed a loop, although she couldn’t find the place where one end joined the other.

 

Unable to make sense of any of it, Buffy found herself yawning. Carefully placing the items back in the box, she went to join Spike, strangely comfortable with the idea that she was sharing a bed with a vampire.

 

Buffy had found his constant presence easy to bear over the last few days, and she had to admit that he was an excellent travel companion. Her most recent boyfriend would probably have tried to discourage her from continuing her mission—although Spike was obviously not her boyfriend. Still, the comparison was an easy one to make, and while there were moments that Buffy still found herself missing Riley, she couldn’t regret the fact that he wasn’t the one with her now.

 

Settling down on the bed, Buffy kept her back to the vampire, trying not to disturb him. Spike’s arm settled across her middle, and he tugged her close. “Where’ve you been?” he asked sleepily.

 

Buffy froze at his familiarity. “Huh?”

 

“Thought you were comin’ straight to bed, luv. ‘s always warmer with you here.” He nuzzled her shoulder, and she stiffened. Buffy realized that he wasn’t fully awake and that whatever Spike was doing, he wasn’t quite aware of it. The way he called her “love” was warmer than his usual tone. It was—affectionate.

 

“Spike?” she called softly, wondering if he’d wake and release her.

 

“Yeah?” Buffy knew immediately when he fully awoke, because he removed his arm and pulled back from her. “Everything okay, Slayer?”

 

“So, the bed’s warmer with me in it, huh?”

 

There was a long silence. “Look—”

 

“You know, if you want to put your arm back where it was, I wouldn’t mind.”

 

Buffy felt him settle on the bed behind her, his body slowly uncoiling. “That right?”

 

“I opened the box,” she said, changing the subject. “There are more papers to translate inside, as well as some other stuff.”

 

“Have to get to it later. I’m too knackered right now,” Spike admitted.

 

Buffy scooted back slightly, feeling the solid wall of his chest. “Me, too.”

 

“Better go to sleep then,” Spike advised. “We should be safe enough here.”

 

She drifted off to sleep, feeling remarkably secure given the fact that she was sharing a bed with a vampire.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike awoke with Buffy’s scent filling his nose. They had shifted positions during the night, and now she faced him, her head tucked under his chin, his right arm over her shoulders. He probably would have extricated himself immediately to avoid getting popped in the nose, but her reaction to his touch last night had put those fears to rest.

 

Not that Spike was going to try anything more ambitious than throwing an arm across her as she slept. He had no desire to wind up dusty.

 

He watched her sleeping, studying her sun-kissed skin, the dark roots just beginning to show in her blonde hair, the scars on her neck from where the Master and Angel had bitten her. When snips of sonnets began filtering through his brain, Spike knew he was in trouble.

 

It only made sense, though. His willingness to come along on this little jaunt, the need to prevent anything from happening to Buffy, his desire to shag her into oblivion without wanting to drain her afterwards.

 

Spike had been in love before; he knew what it felt like, and _this_ was dangerously close to it.

 

Pulling away from her, Spike rose from the bed, feeling the pull of his half-healed wounds. He was going to need blood sooner rather than later in order to heal completely, and Buffy was going to need to eat as well.

 

It was just now twilight, and the sun was low enough that he needn’t fear the remnants of the daylight. It would be better if he went out for supplies before Buffy woke because she would probably want to go with him, and Spike thought it would be better if she wasn’t seen.

 

He picked up blood as well as a sandwich for Buffy at a little sidewalk stand he passed, hoping that it was something she liked. Spike kept to the shadows as much as possible, watching out for any pursuers.

 

Buffy was just waking up when he slipped back into the room. “Spike? Where did you go?”

 

“To get food,” he replied. “You hungry?”

 

“Starving,” she replied, taking the sack he held out for her. “Thanks.”

 

“Figured we’d need something to get us by if we were going to be holed up in here for a while,” Spike replied.

 

Buffy frowned. “How long?”

 

He shook his head. “Dunno, really. We’ll have to leave eventually. Thought we’d decide when we figured out what was inside the box.”

 

“I know I can’t translate that stuff,” Buffy replied. “Giles could, but he’s not here, and if we go back to Sunnydale, I don’t think we’ll ever find out what Miles wanted us to know.”

 

Spike shrugged. “You do the best you can, yeah? Might be that we need reinforcements. Wouldn’t hurt to at least know who’s after us.”

 

“Shouldn’t we call Giles?” Buffy asked.

 

Spike shook his head. “Not from here. Don’t trust the folks who run this place not to listen in. We’ll have to wait a bit.”

 

“Okay,” Buffy said, taking a bite out of her sandwich.

 

Spike sat down at the small, rickety table that sat in a corner of their room. Pulling out a container of blood from the bag he’d brought, he began to sip while looking over the pieces of parchment. “Dunno what this scribbling is,” he said, setting aside the first document. “Watcher might know, but I haven’t the foggiest.”

 

“And the other?” Buffy asked, coming to look over his shoulder while still eating.

 

“French, and it’s old at that,” Spike said. “Looks like someone’s translation and notes of the other, but who knows if it’s accurate or not?”

 

“What does it say?” she asked, resting one hand on his shoulder.

 

The gesture sent a flood of warmth through him that Spike fought to keep out of his voice. “Talks about you, or the Slayer, anyway. There’s a myth about Inanna, the Sumerian goddess of love and war that this bloke believed was based on a Slayer, and her love for a…” Spike trailed off, certain that he’d read it wrong.

 

“Her love for a what?”

 

Spike shook his head. “Talks about her goin’ down to the underworld after him, redeeming him every year, an’ that’s why the seasons change. It’s just a myth.”

 

“Her love for a what, Spike?” Buffy asked, her tone sharpening. “What did she love?”

 

Spike rose. “Doesn’t matter.”

 

“It obviously matters to you.” Buffy turned him to face her, the remains of her sandwich forgotten. “What is it that has you so freaked out?”

 

“It talks about her love for a vampire,” Spike finally said. “This wanker traced the myth back, said he thought it had something to do with a Slayer who loved a vampire and pulled him out of darkness, and that together they beat it back.”

 

Buffy frowned. “What else?”

 

“That they were stronger together,” Spike finally admitted. “It doesn’t mean anything, though. He was speculatin’ on a fascinatin’ myth and bits and pieces of legend handed down through the Watchers’ Council.”

 

Buffy sat down on the bed. “Wasn’t it Giles who suggested that you had a higher destiny to fulfill, with the chip?”

 

“He was blowin’ smoke,” Spike said dismissively, although he felt a twinge at his own words, knowing that they weren’t the entire truth.

 

Buffy raised an eyebrow. “You still agreed to help.”

 

“It was better than scrounging,” Spike shot back. “What the hell else was I supposed to do, Buffy? They took everything from me, everything I had been. I had the chance to get what I needed, and still get a spot of violence in before bedtime. It was better than my other alternatives.”

 

“And that’s why you came with me on this trip?” Buffy demanded. “Because it was better?” Spike opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off. “And before you say anything, let me just remind you that you took three bullets for me last night, and you were _snuggling_ with me today.”

 

Spike stared at her, then his eyes narrowed. He figured that two could play at that game. “Still beat the hell of my other options.”

 

They glared at one another, at a stalemate, and Buffy was the first to look away. “What else does it say?”

 

Spike sat back down to read, keeping a careful eye on the Slayer. “Says that this Watcher found a way to go back in time, experienced it for himself.” He frowned. “Talks about a choice, about a way to make a choice.” Spike glanced over at her. “I can’t quite make out the meaning.”

 

“Can you figure out a way to do the ritual?” Buffy asked.

 

Spike’s eyes widened in alarm. “Buffy, you have no idea what’s on the other side!”

 

“It’s part of what Miles wanted me to find,” Buffy said. “I need to know, Spike.”

 

He sighed, knowing by now that there was no reasoning with the Slayer when she was like this. “All it takes is what’s in this box and your blood, luv. Cut your palm, wipe the blood on the amulet, and toss it into the circle. There’s your portal, and without any way to get back, I might add.”

 

Buffy frowned. “We’d better keep looking then. Maybe there’s something else in there to give us a clue.”

 

Spike bit back a sigh. He just knew that she was going to be the death of him.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy couldn’t have said why it was so important for her to go through with this. There was something that called to her, that told her that whatever information the mysterious portal held was something she needed.

 

She was having a hard time understanding why Spike was so against it, or what had freaked him out so badly. Was the thought of a Slayer having feelings for a vampire so abhorrent to him?

 

“Someone can keep it open on this end,” Spike said quietly, interrupting her thoughts.

 

Buffy perked up at that. “How?”

 

“You have to have an anchor, someone who’s tied to you through blood, to stay on this side of it.”

 

That presented a problem, considering that Buffy didn’t have all that many relatives, and none of them were readily accessible at the moment. “That doesn’t work.”

 

Spike grimaced. “Well, there’s another way.”

 

“Another way to what?”

 

“Be tied by blood.”

 

He was looking rather pointedly at her neck, and Buffy suddenly realized what he meant. If Spike ingested some of her blood, that would give him a tie to her, and if she wanted to do this badly enough, Buffy was going to have to allow Spike to drink from her.

 

Okay, maybe not drink _from_ her. “The chip?” Buffy asked. “Isn’t that going to make it a little difficult?”

 

“Wouldn’t have to be much,” Spike replied, “and I wouldn’t have to bite you.”

 

Buffy’s eyes went to the stone knife laying on the table, understanding what he meant. “Well, I have to cut my hand for the portal to work in the first place, right?”

 

Spike shook his head. “I don’t think this is a good idea, Buffy. There’s no telling what’s through that portal. You could get yourself killed as soon as you walk through, an’ then what—”

 

“What are you going to tell my Watcher?” Buffy asked for him. “Tell him I’m too stubborn for my own good. Giles has said it often enough himself that he’ll believe you.” At the frustrated expression on his face, Buffy relented. “I’m not going to get killed, Spike, and I think this is something I need to do. Think about it. Miles wanted me to have this information, someone killed him over it. We got shot at last night; they obviously knew where we were headed, so they have to know what I’m going to find. It’s too important to give up now.”

 

Spike shook his head, still clearly unhappy with her insistence, but he nodded. “Fine. How do you want to do this?”

 

Buffy’s eyes widened. “We’re doing it now?”

 

“When else?” he asked. “If we talk to Rupert before we attempt this, he’s gonna tell you not to do it, an’ then you’ll either have to lie or go against his orders.”

 

“I’ve done that plenty of times before,” Buffy pointed out. “But you’re right. It’s probably better to get this over with.”

 

“You’re the one who has to set it up, Summers,” Spike said, pushing back from the table.

 

Feeling awkward with Spike watching her so intently, Buffy laid the twine out in as perfect a circle as she could manage. Then, she took the knife and—praying that there wasn’t anything on the blade that was going to kill her—swiped it across her left palm.

 

The blood welled up, and Buffy cupped her hand to keep from spilling it out on the floor. Feeling even stranger, she held out her hand to Spike, watching as he bent to drink the blood from her cupped palm. It hit Buffy then what a picture they must make—a Slayer holding out life to Death.

 

His hand cradled her own gently, however, and when his tongue darted out to catch a stray drop before it fell on the floor, Buffy felt a shiver pass through her. Spike pressed the amulet into her still-bloody palm, and then stepped back. “Be careful.”

 

Buffy met his eyes, and she could see an emotion there she was scared to name. Turning her back to him, she tossed the amulet into the center of the twine, watching as it began to spin, a light beginning to fill the demarcated circle on the floor, then shoot up to the ceiling.

 

She spared a moment to glance over her shoulder at the vampire who’d done so much to keep her safe, and then stepped into the circle.

 

And into another world.

 

~~~~~

 

“You came.”

 

Buffy stared at the girl standing in front of her. She was young, younger than Buffy, and dark-skinned, with high cheekbones and narrow eyes. “Did I have an appointment?” Buffy quipped, glancing around.

 

They stood under a harsh sun, but there were trees nearby, and people bustling around, carrying jars and baskets. No one gave her a second look, and Buffy realized that they weren’t actually seeing her. “I’m not really here,” she stated.

 

The girl smiled. “You are here, but you cannot affect this world. Such a spell would change the course of history.” Her dark eyes met Buffy’s and held her gaze. “Knowledge is weapon enough.”

 

“What am I supposed to know?” Buffy asked. “I was told that I needed to know this, but I don’t know why it’s so important.”

 

“Look.”

 

It wasn’t an answer to her question, but Buffy hadn’t been expecting one. This whole experience was a lot like a Slayer dream, where it was all cryptic messages and vague references; she was used to having to decipher information by now.

 

Buffy immediately saw that the girl was pointing at herself, which was a little odd. She glanced over at her companion. “What am I supposed to see?”

 

“Not see, follow,” she replied.

 

Buffy followed, dodging the people as best as she could. Even though her incorporeal form simply passed through anything she came into contact with, Buffy found the experience of going through a person disturbing. She watched as the girl ducked in a mud hut, and followed her inside, passing through the entrance.

 

“You must leave tonight,” the girl insisted. “My Watcher tells me that you are evil, and that you will turn on me now that we have turned back the darkness. He thinks that I should kill you now.”

 

The young man shook his head. “How can I leave without you? Come with me; we will find a place of our own. I will make a life for you.”

 

Buffy could hardly make them out in the dim light of the hut; only their eyes and the flash of their teeth were visible, but she suddenly understood what she was seeing. The young man was a vampire, and the girl was the Slayer of this time.

 

And they were in love; that much was obvious.

 

Buffy realized with a start that she knew their story, knew what the Slayer felt for him. She understood how much she loved him, how big of a risk she was taking. Buffy knew that what she had felt for Angel paled in comparison to what _this_ girl felt for _this_ vampire. This Slayer trusted her vampire completely, and she had no doubts about his loyalty.

 

Buffy knew that the vampire had fought by the Slayer’s side, that he had helped prevent the apocalypse, and that they had saved one another’s lives a dozen times over.

 

“How?” Buffy asked her companion, who was watching the scene with a nostalgic expression.

 

She smiled. “He saw her, and he loved. It is not so unusual. There is darkness in us, as well as light. There are vampires who will be drawn to our light, just as there will be Slayers drawn to their darkness.”

 

“Vampires can’t change, though. They’re demons,” Buffy objected.

 

The girl looked at her sadly. “This is what they have taught you; you have not seen for yourself.”

 

Buffy looked at the young couple, who were now embracing. “Did he change for you?”

 

“Yes, but they would not believe; the Watchers knew that with him at my side, they could not hope to control me.”

 

The scene altered, shifted, and Buffy felt a thrill of fear as she took in the sights. The girl was bound, kneeling on the ground, bleeding from a dozen wounds. Across from her, the vampire had also been bound, and was also wounded. His yellow eyes glowed, but they never strayed from the Slayer. He looked upon her as though she was his salvation. Perhaps she already had been.

 

“Will you kill him? Will you do what you must?” a man asked her.

 

They were surrounded by men, Buffy realized. All of them were men, and she had to wonder where the women were.

 

Why _had_ it been a girl, chosen to be the Slayer, and not a man?

 

The girl spat on the ground, and Buffy could see the blood in the mixture in the flickering torchlight. “I’ll do what I must.”

 

“You swear this?”

 

“I swear it.”

 

Buffy wasn’t expecting what happened next. They released her, but when they handed her the stake to kill the vampire, she plunged it into her own chest instead.

 

She felt the pain of the stake through her own heart, just as she’d experienced everything else this Slayer had lived. Buffy knew her love, her terror, and her utter despair—the acknowledgment that they would never find a place to live in peace together.

 

Death was her only release; she believed she would find him again beyond the grave.

 

The pain was over in a moment as the Sumerian Slayer died, and Buffy heard the vampire howl his anguish, snapping his bonds in his grief. He managed to rip the throats out of three of the men before they finally staked him, and his ashes drifted down over the still body of the Slayer.

 

“I don’t understand,” Buffy protested. “What is this supposed to tell me?”

 

The girl gave her a sympathetic look. “That is the Council. They did not want her to choose for herself.”

 

“Choose what?”

 

The scene changed again, and this time Buffy immediately recognized the girl who stood in the center of a circle of men.

 

The First Slayer.

 

“They called it being Chosen,” the girl beside her said, bitterness lacing her voice. “They said it was an honor, but you see how it began.”

 

As Buffy watched, the men began to chant, and she could see the chains that held the First Slayer in place. With a feeling of dread, Buffy swallowed hard. “What are they doing?”

 

“They are creating a warrior, to do what they cannot.” The girl met her eyes. “Did you not realize that it was dark magic that created us?”

 

Buffy wanted to turn away, but was unable to do so, seeing the gathering darkness swirl around the First Slayer. With a shriek, the darkness penetrated her chest, and the First Slayer screamed.

 

“I don’t understand!” Buffy said, her own chest hurting sympathetically. “What good is showing me this supposed to do?”

 

The girl’s eyes glittered. “We fight the darkness that lives within because we fear it, but it keeps us alive. They took our choices, and forced upon us a destiny that brings death.”

 

Buffy shook her head. “I still don’t get it. I’m the Slayer, I know, but there isn’t a vampire that—” She stopped, realizing what she was about to say wasn’t precisely true. “What happened next?”

 

The girl shook her head. “There was one Watcher who understood the truth, that change can come, and that sometimes taking Death as a lover is the only way to embrace life.” She smiled. “Sometimes love is the only gift you need give to beat back the darkness.”

 

“What if I don’t love him?” Buffy asked.

 

The other Slayer touched her cheek in a tender gesture, as she might have touched her sister’s face. “At least know that you have the choice. In choosing, you are changing everything.”

 

Buffy felt the girl’s lips brush her other cheek, and knew no more.


	5. Sunnydale, California

Spike paced, keeping one eye on the portal and one eye on the clock. It had been four hours since Buffy had disappeared into the yellow-orange light, and he was beginning to get a little nervous. Not that there was anything he could do; if he went in after her, Spike would lose any chance either of them had of getting back.

 

That’s _if_ he’d translated the text correctly; Spike wasn’t at all sure that he had.

 

Suddenly, the light was gone, and Buffy lay sprawled on the floor on her back. “Buffy?” Spike called, going to her side.

 

She didn’t stir, and he felt for a pulse; even though he could hear her heartbeat, Spike needed the tangible reassurance. It was strong and steady under his fingers, and he picked her up and laid her out on the bed. Turning her injured hand over, Spike saw that it was already healing.

 

“What the bloody hell happened?” he muttered. Not knowing what else to do, Spike grabbed a towel from the tiny bathroom and wet it in the sink. He brushed her forehead and cheeks with the cool cloth, hoping that it might bring her around.

 

His ministrations seemed to work, and she sat straight up. “Where—” She looked around her wildly, relaxing as she recognized him. “Spike.”

 

“Yeah,” he replied. “You okay, luv?”

 

Buffy blinked rapidly. “No, not really.”

 

He frowned. “What happened, Buffy?”

 

“I know what a Slayer is now, Spike,” she said, her eyes haunted. “And I know why she chose the darkness.”

 

Spike didn’t understand. “Why who chose the darkness?”

 

“The Slayer that they were referring to, the one that chose a vampire to love.”

 

“We don’t always choose who we love,” Spike said gently.

 

Buffy shook her head. “She chose him, and they—” She faltered. “I think I’m going to shower. I feel dirty.”

 

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you need, pet,” Spike said, watching as she wandered towards the bathroom dazedly. He listened as the water started, leaning back against the comforter and feeling not a little curiosity about what had happened on the other side.

 

What exactly had Buffy seen?

 

When she emerged in a cloud of steam, she had only a towel wrapped around her, and Spike realized that she hadn’t taken any clothing in with her. “You want me to step outside?” he asked.

 

“No.”

 

She stood there, unmoving, and Spike began to get really concerned. “Luv? You okay?”

 

“You keep calling me that,” Buffy observed, sounding numb.

 

“What’s that?”

 

“Love. You keep calling me that.”

 

Spike felt a little irritated. “You don’t want me to call you that, I’ll stop.”

 

“No.” Buffy took a step closer to him. “I just want to know why. Do you love me, Spike?”

 

He blinked, realizing that he could get himself into a sticky situation very easily. “Look, Buffy, I—”

 

“Do you love me?”

 

There was a little more life in her voice now, and Spike grimaced. He didn’t want to go there, didn’t want to tell her how he really felt for fear that she would reject him out of hand. “I think I could,” he finally said.

 

“Would you change for me?” Buffy asked.

 

He glared at her. “What the hell do you think I’ve been doin’ this whole time, Slayer?” he demanded. “Your Watcher was the one who seemed to think it was possible for me to change. You, on the other hand, you just keep insistin’ that—”

 

She cut him off with a kiss, one hand gripping the back of his head, the other holding her towel in place. Spike had no idea where this was coming from, but he wasn’t averse to enjoying the ride.

 

Buffy pulled back after a few moments, searching his face for something, leaving Spike to wonder what it was she thought she’d find. When she just kept staring, Spike pulled back farther. “What? Do I have somethin’ on my face?”

 

“No.” Buffy appeared perfectly calm. “I just wanted to test a theory.”

 

“And the theory would be?” he asked, more than a little annoyed.

 

She just gave him a half-smile. “That kissing you when there wasn’t a spell would feel just like kissing you with the spell.”

 

Spike frowned, unsure what she meant by that. “And?”

 

“There wasn’t much difference.” Buffy made a twirling motion with her finger, apparently having been brought out of whatever funk she’d been in. “Turn.”

 

Spike did as he was told, although he didn’t bother to tell her that he could see her in the mirror over the bureau if he moved just a little to his right. “And that means what?”

 

“That means we can go back to Sunnydale,” Buffy replied.

 

He frowned. “And if the Council tries to stop us?”

 

“They’d better not.” Buffy’s tone was steely. “I don’t have the patience for their crap anymore. If they get in my way, I’ll make sure they regret it.”

 

Spike raised an eyebrow. “That attitude have something to do with what you saw?”

 

“It might,” Buffy replied evenly.

 

“You ever going to tell me what you saw?”

 

“I might.”

 

Spike shifted just a little bit; sure enough, he caught a glimpse of Buffy’s back as she fastened her bra behind her back. “Did it change anything?”

 

“I’m not sure.” Spike bit back a disappointed sigh as Buffy pulled on a pair of pants and a shirt. Just a glimpse of her, and he wanted more; he really was completely buggered. She turned, and Spike saw her eyes reflected in the mirror. “But I’ll let you know.”

 

~~~~~

 

They managed to make it to the train station in Lyon before anyone from the Council saw them. Spike was the first to recognize that they were being followed, and he grabbed Buffy’s arm and steered her around a corner. “We’ve got company.”

 

“Where?”

 

Spike moved so that his body blocked any view of her, and Buffy peered around his shoulder to see two men in black moving slowly along the platform. To passers-by, it probably appeared as though they simply weren’t in a hurry, but Buffy could tell that they were looking for someone.

 

“Crap,” she muttered, looking up at Spike. “Now what?”

 

He gave her an odd look. “You’re askin’ me?”

 

“I don’t think they’re going to try to grab us here,” Buffy replied. “I mean, I guess they could try to kill us, but—”

 

“Not happening,” Spike growled. “We haven’t gotten this far for you to get killed now.”

 

“Okay, so what are our options?” Buffy asked.

 

Spike gave her a sharp look. “You trust me?”

 

Buffy met his eyes; his expression was perfectly sincere, and she realized that she did, indeed, trust Spike. With her life, no less. “Yes.”

 

“Stay here,” he ordered.

 

Buffy wasn’t terribly happy about it, but she understood his point. It was entirely likely that the Council didn’t know what he looked like beyond a vague description, but they would have pictures of her. “Fine.”

 

She was ready to give up on him when Spike finally returned, looking vastly pleased with himself. “I’ve got transportation for us,” he announced. “We’ve got to leave now, though.”

 

“What kind of transportation?” Buffy asked.

 

He lifted an eyebrow, clearly amused. “I thought you said that you trusted me.”

 

“It doesn’t mean I’m not a little bit curious,” Buffy shot back.

 

“I’ve got a car.”

 

Buffy swallowed; she did trust Spike, but she’d never ridden with him before, and she remembered that he had been the one to crash Giles’ car. Of course, the Initiative had been chasing him at the time, so maybe he had an excuse. “Okay.”

 

She needn’t have worried. Spike handled the roads between Lyon and Paris with ease, and for the periods of time that she wasn’t drifting in and out of sleep, Buffy found herself staring at his hands—strong and sure on the steering wheel. The chipped black nail polish was nearly gone, worn off in the last week or two. She wondered idly when her feelings for Spike had changed.

 

Well, she knew when they’d started changing—she hadn’t been able to hate him after the whole thing with Adam. He’d been a lot of help during that mess, and a steadfast ally. No, that wasn’t true at all. Buffy’s feelings for Spike had started changing the night that he’d offered to help her against Angelus. She’d never quite viewed him as an enemy after that. A pain in the ass, yes, and someone she’d be happier away from, but not an enemy. If she was honest with herself, Buffy knew that she wouldn’t have won that fight without his help.

 

And then there had been the spell, and his help, and this trip…and suddenly he wasn’t _just_ an ally, nor was he a pain in the ass. Spike was, in fact, essential.

 

Buffy had been feeling as though she’d made the entire trip for nothing, no matter how much distance or time she’d managed to cover.

 

The only thing she knew for sure right now was that at sometime in the distant past, a Slayer had loved a vampire so much that she would have rather killed herself than him, and that he had changed his entire mode of existence for her. Buffy knew all about killing the person she loved to save the world, but the vampire she had killed had been in possession of a soul at the time. The other vampire had not been, of that much Buffy was certain.

 

Everything she’d learned over the last few days indicated that a Slayer was the best person to fight the darkness not because she was separate from it, but because it was a part of her.

 

Which in turn indicated that perhaps Spike wasn’t a bad partner, in a number of areas. Buffy certainly couldn’t quite imagine her life without him. Not after this.

 

So maybe this trip hadn’t been futile at all.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike thought that they might actually make it. The drive had gone smoothly enough, with a brief stop along the way to get something to eat for Buffy and allow her to call Giles. The idea was to board a plane in Paris and fly to New York, and from there they’d fly to Sunnydale. It was a simple plan, and he’d hoped that they’d finally thrown their pursuers off.

 

He spotted the men again immediately upon entering the airport and cursed angrily. Buffy had been oddly quiet for the entire car ride, not even offering up snide comments on his driving, and he wasn’t sure she was capable of doing what was necessary to take care of the bastards.

 

If it hadn’t been for the chip, Spike would have drained every one of the Council wankers that presented a threat to his Slayer.

 

Of course, he would never say that out loud; Spike had no reason to believe that Buffy would ever be _his_ Slayer, although that kiss had been something else. He wasn’t sure whether he ought to have more hope or less after that; nor was he certain whether the fact that kissing him without the spell in place hadn’t felt much different indicated that he stood a chance with her.

 

Not that having no chance would stop him from feeling the way that he did for her. Spike never had been much good at not falling in love, even when he knew it was hopeless.

 

His cursing seemed to bring the Slayer out of her thoughts, and she saw the Council’s men immediately. “I’ve got it.”

 

“You sure?” Spike asked, even though he was aware that there wasn’t much he could do for her; he really hated the chip, particularly in moments like this.

 

“No problem.” She handed him her suitcase. “I’ll be right back.”

 

Spike watched in admiration as she walked right up to the first of the Council’s men he’d caught a glimpse of. To his surprise, she pulled the ancient box out of her purse and shoved it into the man’s chest hard enough to send him stumbling backwards. Even with his enhanced senses, Spike couldn’t hear what she said, but whatever it was, it seemed to work. When the Slayer walked away, the man stayed put, and by the time Buffy reached Spike’s side again, the Council’s men had disappeared.

 

“What did you say to him?” he asked, hardly able to believe that it had been so easy.

 

Buffy’s eyes glittered. “I told him that I had no problem gutting him and his friends if they came anywhere near me. Also, when I called Giles just before we left Lyon, he said that most of the Council jerks were saying that they had nothing to do with Miles’ death, that it was the work of a few lunatics. Chances are, they got told to leave me alone unless they could take me out quietly; I told him that it wouldn’t be quiet.”

 

“Are you sure they won’t come after you again?” Spike asked.

 

“No,” Buffy admitted. “But they wanted to prevent that information from getting to me; the damage has already been done. Besides, I’ve pretty much always done exactly what I wanted to do. They should be used to that by now.”

 

Spike couldn’t argue with that assessment; Buffy was in a class of her own. As he’d said upon meeting her for the second time, a Slayer wasn’t supposed to have family or friends. “So, we headed home, then?”

 

“Yeah,” Buffy replied. “Let’s go.”

 

~~~~~

 

Giles met them at the Sunnydale airport, the relief on his face obvious. “Buffy. It’s good to see you.”

 

“I’m sorry about your friend, Giles,” Buffy said immediately, still feeling guilty that she hadn’t managed to prevent Miles’ death.

 

He shook his head. “It wasn’t your fault. Miles was aware that the information he was relaying to you was dangerous. You can’t hold yourself responsible.”

 

“I was right there,” Buffy replied, not so easily persuaded.

 

Giles shook his head. “Please don’t blame yourself, Buffy. It is not your fault.”

 

She nodded, knowing that he didn’t blame her, and yet still feeling as though she’d let him down once again. “I know.”

 

Buffy watched as Giles turned to Spike, holding out his hand. “Thank you, Spike.”

 

Spike appeared to be taken aback at first, but he gripped Giles’ hand after a few shocked seconds. “It wasn’t that much.”

 

Giles appeared ready to argue, then apparently changed his mind, because he merely nodded. “Of course. Let’s go.”

 

Buffy watched Giles let Spike off by the cemetery first at his request, and she was surprised when he got out of the car without a word to her.

 

She had expected him to say something about the kiss during the entire trip back, but he hadn’t mentioned it, even though she’d caught him watching her with an almost wistful expression on several occasions. She still wasn’t quite sure what she wanted to do about her newfound knowledge; Buffy sensed that she could let it go, allow her life to go on, much as it always had—or she could take the kind of risk that the Sumerian Slayer had taken, so long ago.

 

Buffy could risk her heart on another vampire; she might have better luck this time around.

 

Giles pulled up in front of her house. “You haven’t told me much about what you saw, Buffy,” he said.

 

She sighed. While she’d given Giles the basics, Buffy hadn’t told him the full truth of what she’d seen; she hadn’t told him about the vampire, or that the First Slayer had essentially been forced into becoming what she was. Giles was different, Buffy knew, but the fact remained that he had been one of them—and he had betrayed her with the Cruciamentum before he’d shared the truth.

 

Perhaps the real miracle was that he had bucked tradition at all.

 

“I can’t, Giles,” Buffy finally said, knowing that he was waiting for her answer. “It’s—it’s a Slayer thing. It doesn’t feel right to talk about it.”

 

“Alright. I trust you.”

 

Buffy gave him a brief smile, then headed up the walk to her house, already rehearsing what she would tell her mother—and what parts she would leave out.

 

She actually ended up telling Joyce almost as much as she’d told Giles, although she avoided the telling her mom about watching Miles get shot, or getting shot at herself. Pretty much everything else was part of being the Slayer, though, and Joyce was used to that by now.

 

“And how is Spike?” Joyce asked finally.

 

Buffy’s eyes widened. “What? Oh, he’s fine. You know Spike; he’s good at getting himself into and out of trouble.”

 

The way Joyce looked at her told Buffy that her mom probably saw right through her protestations. “And you two got along?”

 

“We got along great, actually,” Buffy said. “He was—he was really great.” She looked off thoughtfully, remembering how careful he’d been with her life, how good he’d been to her.

 

How good of a friend he’d been.

 

“You should invite him over for dinner sometime,” Joyce said. “To say thank you.”

 

“I should,” Buffy replied, rising. “I think I’m going to go take a shower and go to bed. I haven’t slept much over the last few days.”

 

She kissed her mother good night, and went upstairs. The shower felt good, but sleep proved elusive. Buffy would fall asleep, only to find herself back in Sumer, watching the scene play out again. Or watching the First Slayer being invaded by the darkness.

 

Eventually, she gave up on sleeping; she dressed and opened her window as silently as possible, a stake shoved in the back of her jeans. There was only one person she wanted to see, and she didn’t want to wait.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike finished his blood with a grimace; he needed to find a butcher in town that would supply him with cow’s blood, as he much preferred the taste of that to pig’s. While nothing was as sweet as human blood, that was off-limits to him now in any number of ways.

 

How was he to know that his bargain with Giles would produce such insane results?

 

Really, a vampire in love with the Slayer; there was a good reason that he’d twitted Angelus about that, back when he’d been in a wheelchair, and Angel’s soul had been on walkabout. It was ridiculous, was what it was, but Spike had never claimed to love wisely. Even if he’d had a shot with Buffy, it still was ridiculous. Vampires were supposed to be evil.

 

On the other hand, vampires were also supposed to fear the Slayer; Spike had always been something of a rebel.

 

The door creaked open, and he reached for a crossbow, expecting a demon or vampire with a grudge; he’d had more than a few visitors like that in recent months. Instead, Buffy stood here, looking at him uncertainly.

 

“Come on in, pet,” Spike said, striving to keep a light tone, not wanting to give away his true feelings. “What brings you by at this hour? Thought you’d be sleeping by now.”

 

“I wanted to ask you something.”

 

He frowned, puzzled. “Yeah, sure.”

 

“Has anything changed for you?”

 

Spike wasn’t quite sure what she meant. “Since when?”

 

“Since you got the chip, I guess.” Buffy looked away, then back at him. “It’s important.”

 

Spike opened his mouth to reply that yes, of course everything had changed since the chip, but he realized that it wasn’t exactly true. “No,” he said softly, seeing the disappointment in her eyes at the one word. “Started changing before that, Buffy. Nothing has been the same since I saw you.”

 

“Oh.” She stared at him with wide eyes. “Did you want to know what I saw?”

 

Spike didn’t know what to say to that. “If you want to tell me.”

 

“I think it might make a difference.” Buffy glanced around. “It’s kind of a long story.”

 

“Hang on a mo,” he replied, grabbing the comforter he’d recently nicked and spreading it over the sarcophagus. “If you want somewhere to sit,” he offered.

 

Buffy swung herself up, then looked at him expectantly. “You going to join me?”

 

Spike sat next to her, watching her carefully. “So? You saw something that changed things?”

 

“I don’t know.” Slowly, she began to explain what she’d seen, and by the time Buffy reached the end of her story, Spike wasn’t sure how he was supposed to react. He could understand why it was throwing her off, but he didn’t know how to respond.

 

“What do you want me to say?” Spike asked. “Told you that I changed, Buffy, that I’ve been changing. If you can’t see that for yourself—”

 

“I can,” she interrupted. “That’s not the problem, Spike.”

 

“Then what is the problem?” he asked. “I’m not real sure what you want out of me, Buffy. I can tell you that I don’t want you hurt, that I’m willing to fight by your side for however long I can, but—”

 

“No, it’s not that.” Buffy sighed. “I know all of that, Spike. I know that you’ve changed. I guess I just wondered whether…” She trailed off, refusing to meet his eyes. They were sitting side by side, only a couple of inches separating them, and he resisted the urge to slide over so that their legs and shoulders were actually touching.

 

“You want to know if I’m worth taking a risk on?” Spike asked.

 

Buffy shook her head. “It’s not about that. It’s more that I’m wondering if this is even possible. _Can_ we be partners? Because that was the best part of this trip, you know? It was having a partner I could count on. I just need to know if that’s going to change.”

 

Spike didn’t hesitate; he figured that if she staked him, it would be worth it. He captured her lips with his own, bringing up a hand to frame her face. Instead of pulling back, Buffy reciprocated, leaning into him. It wasn’t too long before they were stretched out on the bier with her on top. His t-shirt had gotten tossed at some point, and her blouse was unbuttoned.

 

When she pulled back, Spike half-expected her to get all up-tight on him, to call it quits. Instead, she searched his face, and her expression was the same as it had been after she’d kissed him in that run-down hotel in Lyon. This time, however, she didn’t turn away.

 

Instead, she smiled, acknowledging that he’d changed—that they both had. That everything was different now.

 

“Sometimes change is good,” Spike commented. His hand was on her waist, a thumb caressing the sensitive skin of her abdomen.

 

Buffy nodded. “This time it is.” She touched his face. “You know how you asked if what I saw made a difference?” Spike nodded in reply. “It did.”

 

As their lips met again, Spike decided that he didn’t mind changing—not when it suited him so well to do so.


End file.
